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SMITHSONIAN DEPOSIT. 



7 



COMPENDIUM 



PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION, 

ON THE BASIS OF 

DR BUSH'S PHILOSOPHY OF THE 
HUMAN YOICE. 

TO WHICH, IS ADDED, 

A COPIOUS SELECTION OE EXEECISES FOE READING 
AND DECLAMATION. 



By SAMUEL R. GUMMEKE. 



PHILADELPHIA: 

PUBLISHED BY URIAH HUNT & SON. 

1857. 



TIH" 1 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by 

SAMUEL R. GUMMERE, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States in and for the 

Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 

STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON & CO. 
PHILADELPHIA. 



PREFACE. 



An author, sometimes writes a preface, for the pur- 
pose of informing his readers, in advance, what they 
will find, in the subsequent pages. At other times, pre- 
faces are written, by way of apology, on the part of 
authors, for venturing to add to the number of works, 
under which, the press is constantly groaning. Mine, 
will partake, principally, of the latter character. To 
those, who are aware of the great number of books, 
upon the subject of Elocution, which are already before 
the public, some reasons for adding another to the list, 
may be deemed necessary. Such reasons, I will now 
proceed to give; and, perhaps, I can do this in no way, 
so effectually, as by reference to my own experience, as 
a teacher. Let the object, be an apology for the ego- 
tism. 

When I commenced the business of teaching, now 
forty-six years ago, I soon became painfully conscious, 
of my want of ability, to do justice to my own concep- 
tion, of the meaning and emotions of the authors I was 
using, as examples in reading for my scholars, to follow. 
If, occasionally, I succeeded in satisfying myself, I could 
not tell how those efforts differed from others, in which 
I had failed. When I heard another person, whose read- 
ing or speaking, was, in general, satisfactory, I might 
have tried to do the same, by mere imitation, as the 



IV PREFACE. 

parrot is taught to speak ; but, such an acquisition as 
that, did not satisfy me. I wished to know, how, his 
reading or speaking differed from that of others ; and 
this, he could not tell me, nor, could I discover. 

At length, an edition of Walker's elaborate work upon 
Elocution, was published in this country. I procured a 
copy, and read it, with care, and with considerable ad- 
dition to my stock of knowledge upon the subject. But, 
I also rose from its study, with the firm conviction 
(which afterwards amounted to absolute certainty) 
that, in a large part of the work, he was treating of 
that, which, he himself, did not understand. I procured 
Sheridan's work, a much less pretending one than 
Walker's, and studied it with decided advantage. But 
still, there was much that I wanted to know, about 
which, neither he nor Walker, gave me any information. 
I tried what I could make out of some of the itinerant 
teachers of Elocution ; but, generally, found them more 
ignorant than myself. Many of them had tried their 
fortunes upon the stage ; and, failing there, had taken 
up the business of teaching, as a substitute. Most of 
them could " tear a passion to tatters, to split the ears 
of groundlings;" but, they were greatly deficient, in the 
art of " holding the mirror up to nature." Some of them 
would talk, until you were tired of listening, about "ab- 
dominal muscles," "the voice from the chest," &c.; but 
none of them could tell you how to express any of the 
passionate emotions; or, if they attempted this, their 
language was an unintelligible jargon. 

At length, I became acquainted with Dr. Barber, and 
took some lessons of him, upon Steele's rhythmical sys- 
tem. In many respects, he was the best reader, to whom 
I had ever listened ; and, his pupils, generally, improved 
greatly in power of voice. He did not, however, confine 
himself, in all cases, to his own marking of the rhythm ; 



PREFACE. V 

and such of his pupils as did so, acquired a very stiff 
and artificial mode of delivery, altogether at variance 
with good taste. 

Through Dr. Barber, I made the acquaintance of Dr. 
James Eush, of Philadelphia, in 1826. I soon found, that 
he knew much more about the various functions of the 
voice, than any other person, with whom I had met, or, 
whose works I had read. I discovered that he was about 
to publish a work upon the voice, and determined to 
procure it, and make myself master of its contents, as 
soon as possible after its appearance in print. His " Phi- 
losophy of the Human Yoice," was published early in 
1827 ; and I immediately essayed to carry out my pur- 
pose. This was, however, no trifling task. In the first 
section, I found a description of the musical scale, its 
notes and intervals. Of these I was totally ignorant ; 
and yet, I saw that I must understand them, before I 
could read the subsequent parts of this elaborate work. 
I succeeded in accomplishing this, without the aid of a 
teacher, by a process, which the reader will perceive, 
when he reads the first section of the following compend. 
I then went to work upon his subsequent sections, and 
found, as I progressed, that I was gaining the kind of 
knowledge, of which I had, for years, been in search. I 
made this work the basis of my mode of instruction, 
until I gave up the business of teaching, ten years after 
its publication. I believed then, and, I still believe, that 
whoever would teach Elocution thoroughly, should make 
the " Philosophy of the Human Yoice" the basis of his 
system of instruction. I will not say, nor does Dr. Eush 
pretend, that his book contains all that can be known, 
of the functions of the voice, in speech. But, it contains 
vastly more than all the works, upon the subject, that 
preceded it ; and, it indicates the mode of investigation, 
by which further discoveries, if at all, must be made. 

1* 



VI PREFACE. 

But, the reader may inquire, if the " Philosophy of 
the Human Voice/' is all that you allege it to be, why 
should another book, upon this subject, be made ? A most 
pertinent question, that requires an answer. Dr. Rush's 
work (the fourth edition) is an octavo of upwards of 
five hundred and fifty pages. Much of it is occupied 
with reasoning, to show that the results, at which he 
arrives, are correct. In consequence of this, the work 
is too extensive, and too elaborate, for general use, as a 
text book, in our schools. What is needed for this pur- 
pose, is, a well digested compend of the results of his 
investigations, with examples for illustration. It is not 
needful, to burden the mind of the student, by arguments 
to prove that, which is already sufficiently established 
as truth. It would be well, however, for every one who 
would attain to a thorough understanding of the sub- 
ject, after he shall have made himself familiar with its 
principles, to read the Philosophy, with close attention. 

I have been waiting, for years, to see such a compend 
as I could approve. The Doctor, himself, has declined 
to undertake the task, but is willing that others, should 
make use of the results of his labors, for the purpose. A 
number have tried it; and, in my opinion, have failed of 
success] some, evidently, for want of a full comprehen- 
sion of the original; and others, because their ambition, 
or their vanity, induced them to mark out new paths 
for themselves. Some are so brief, in describing the 
functions of the voice, and in making the application of 
them, as to be unintelligible to the student. It will, of 
course, be supposed, that I think I have done more 
justice to the subject. I certainly think so, or this book 
would not have been added to the list of manuals upon 
Elocution. Whether I am correct in this opinion, it is 
for others to say. 

About one half of the volume, is taken up with an 



PREFACE. Vll 

exposition, of the principles and the elements of reading 
and speaking. The rest is occupied with a selection of 
exercises in reading and declamation. In making this 
selection, I have been guided in my choice, rather by 
what is good, of its kind, than by what is new. It 
should bo remembered, that what is old, to the teacher, 
is, generally, new, to the learner : and, further, that it is 
a matter of little consequence whether it be old, or new, 
provided that the style is good, and the thoughts and 
sentiments are adapted to our purpose. In teaching the 
art of reading and speaking, it should be our object to 
make the learner acquainted with those movements of 
the voice, which are employed in giving expression to 
all the different passionate emotions, as well as to mere 
thoughts or ideas ; and, to do this, we need lessons for 
practice, in which these emotions and these thoughts are 
best displayed. This has been my object, in making the 
selection. I have not overlooked the claims of modern 
compositions; but, I freely confess that my reading, has 
not led me to expect more success among the works 
of modern authors, than in those of Shakspeare, Milton, 
Cowper, Goldsmith, &c, among the poets, or Addison, 
Chatham, Johnson, Burke, Goldsmith and others, of for- 
mer days, among the prose writers of our language. For 
these reasons, my selections have been made, principally, 
from writers and speakers, of former periods. I have exa- 
mined numerous selections of reading lessons, in which 
the compilers, have overlooked the older writers, almost 
entirely, and selected from those of the present century. 
The results may have satisfied those who made the 
selections, but they fall very far short of what I want 
as a teacher of Elocution. 

Some excellent persons, may object, that, in the first 
part, I have gone so frequently to the drama, for illustra- 
tion of the emotions and passions. To such, I would 



Vlll PREFACE. 

say, we all know that many emotions and passions ope- 
rate upon the mind, or the heart, and often break forth 
in language, which we cannot approve, as consistent 
with religion or good morals. But, the fact that evil 
passions exist, cannot be kept from the knowledge of 
youth; and, such being the case, it is by no means cer- 
tain that injury results, from displaying before them, oc- 
casionally, and to a limited extent, the expression of 
such passions in all their native deformity. At all events, 
it seems to me, that a writer upon Elocution, would but 
partially perform his duty, if he passed over such pas- 
sionate expressions, in silence ; and, if he is to give 
examples of them, he must frequently resort to the 
dramatists. 

Many, who are familiar only with such punctuation, as 
our books, in general, display, may wonder what system 
I have adopted, both in the body of the work, and, in 
the reading exercises. Some of the sticklers for what 
they call grammatical punctuation, may be inclined to 
criticize mine, somewhat unsparingly. If they will read 
what I have said, upon the subject of pauses in discourse, 
they will find that I am a skeptic, in relation to gram- 
matical pauses, caesuras, demi-caesuras, &c, beyond all 
hope of redemption ; and, that my object is, to lead off 
as many as possible, from, what they call, the true faith. 
They will there find, that I believe in no other object, in 
making pauses, in discourse, than that of enabling the 
reader or speaker to convey to his hearers, in the most 
efficient manner, the thoughts, he utters, and the emo- 
tions, he feels. If this be the only object of pauses, they 
were just as necessary, before Grammar was ever taught, 
as they are at the present day. 

I have neither invented, nor adopted any new charac- 
ters, to indicate the places where pauses are to be made, 
in reading or declamation. The old marks, serve, as 



PREFACE. IX 

well as others, to guide the pupil's eye to the places where 
he should pause, in reading; and his own judgment, or 
that of his instructor, must inform him as to the com- 
parative lengths of those | pauses, and the accompanying 
intonation. It is most likely that some of the requisite 
pauses may have escaped me, in preparing the matter 
for the press ; but, I think, none will be found that are 
actually superfluous. 

Of latter years, most of those who have published 
manuals of Elocution, have devoted a part of their vo- 
lumes to the subject of Gesture. I have made no refer- 
ence to this subject. I have omitted it, not because I 
consider an appropriate system, or manner, of gesticula- 
tion, of no importance to a public speaker, but, because 
I think the proper management and modulation of the 
voice, of vastly more importance, and, of itself, quite 
sufficient, to occupy a single text book. A thorough 
knowledge of the grammatical construction of the lan- 
guage, is indispensable to the finished elocutionist; yet, 
no one thinks of embodying a treatise upon Grammar, 
in a work upon Elocution. That is taken as a separate 
branch of study. So, I think, should be the general sub- 
ject of Gesture. The latter, addresses the understand- 
ing, through the eye; whereas, the proper management 
of the voice, is tested by the ear, alone. A person, in 
declaiming, may attend, strictly, to all the rules laid 
down by Austin, in his Chironomia, and yet, be a very 
indifferent elocutionist. The same thing cannot be said, 
with propriety, of one, who manages his voice, properly, 
even though he stands erect, without movement of either 
hands or feet. 

S. E. G. 
Burlington, Nov. 1857. 



CONTENTS, 



PAET L 

SECTION I. 

Of Sound 1 

What causes Sound . 1 

The Force, Pitch, and Time of Sound 2 

What causes Difference in Force 2 

What causes Difference in Pitch 3 

The Musical Scale 5 

Division of the String. 5 

Second Series or Octave, how obtained 6 

Notes and Intervals 6 

Concrete and Discrete Lntervals 8 



SECTION II. 

Mechanism of the Voice 8 

Lungs, Bronchia, Trachea, &c '. 9 

Respiration, or Breathing 10 

Vocal Sounds 11 



SECTION III. 

Formation of Words and Syllables 12 

Elementary Sounds 13 

Alphabet .* 14 

Deficiency of our Alphabet 14 

Division of Elements 16 

Tonics, Subtonics, and Atonies 17 

Length of Tonic Sounds. 19 

xi 



xil , CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

Syllables without Tonics 19 

Diphthongs 20 

Difficult Combinations of Sounds 21 



SECTION rv. 

Force of Voice, &c 24 

Force and Stress 26 

Radical Stress 26 

Radical and Vanish 27 

Median, Thorough, and Vanishing Stress 27 

Loud Concrete 28 



SECTION V. 

Time and Quantity 28 

Long and Short Quantity.. 29 

Quick and Slow Time 29 

Classes of Syllables 31 

SECTION VI. 

Pitch of the Voice 33 

Movement in Speech, Recitative, and Song 34 

Waves of the Voice 35 

Musical Staff 37 

Concrete Datervals, and Waves 38 

SECTION VII. 

Articulation in Speech 39 

Rule for Good Articulation 41 

Defective Articulation upon and, of, for, &c 42 

Table of Common Errors 44 

Running Short Words together 47 

SECTION VIII. 

Melody of Speech 49 

Diatonic Melody « 51 

Phrases of Melody 52 



CONTENTS. xm 

PAOE 

Different Modes of making Cadences 55 

False Cadence 58 

Prepared Cadence 69 

Chromatic Melody .' , GO 

Tritonic Melody . G4 

Natural Reading — Whately 65 

SECTION IX. 

Qualities of Voice 68 

The Whisper 68 

Natural Voice 69 

The Falsette or Falsetto 71 

The Orotund Voice 72 



SECTION X. 

Tremor of the Voice , 73 

Crying and Laughing 74 

Tremulous Scale 76 

SECTION XI. 

Interrogation 76 

What changes a Declarative Sentence, into a Question 77 

Single Syllables made Interrogations 80 

Different Classes of Questions 80 

Mode of Reading Questions of first class 81 

" " " second class 82 

" " " third class , 87 

SECTION XII. 

Of Pauses in Discourse 91 

Defects of Old Rules and Practice 91 

The Uses of Pauses in Speech 92 

Pauses in Poetry 93 

Rules for Pauses 97 

Phrases of Melody, at Pauses 101 

2 



XIV CONTENTS. 



SECTION XIII. 

Of Accent 103 

Accent of Force, and of Quantity 104 

Accents upon Vowels, or Consonants 106 

SECTION XIV. 

Of Emphasis 107 

Definition of Emphasis 108 

Emphasis of Pitch 109 

" by Discrete Skip 109 

" by Concrete Rise or Fall , Ill 

" by Waves 113 

" in the Chromatic Melody 115 

" by Stress 116 

" by Aspiration 118 

" by Guttural Vibration 120 

SECTION XV. 

Grouping of Speech 122 

" by Pauses 123 

" by Abatement of Voice 124 

" by Emphatic Tie 125 

" by Flight of the Voice 125 

Reading Parentheses, &c 126 

SECTION XVI. 

Vocal Signs of the Passions 134 

General Observations 134 

Whately's Notions 136 

Walker, on Passionate Intonation 138 

Passions indicated by Loudness 142 

" " by Feebleness 142 

" " by Quickness 142 

" " by Slowness 143 

" " by Quality 143 

" " by Radical Stress 143 

" " by Median Stress 144 

" " by Thorough Stress 144 



CONTENTS. XV 

PAGE 

Passions indicated by Vanishing Stress 145 

" by Pitch 146 

" by High Key 147 

" by Medium Key 147 

" by Low Key 148 

11 by Rising Semitone 148 

" by Rising Thirds, &c 148 

" by Falling Thirds, &c 149 

" by Wave of Semitone 150 

" by Wave of Second 150 

" by Wave of Third, &c 152 

'.' by Unequal Waves 153 

" by the Aspiration 154 

" by the Tremor 154 

" by Guttural Vibration 155 



SECTION XVII. 

General Observations 155 

On Articulation 157 

On Key 158 

On Time and Quantity 160 

On Melody 162 

On Chromatic Melody 164 

On Tritonic Melody 166 

On Interrogation 167 

On Pauses 173 

On Grouping 180 

On Falling Concrete 184 

On Passionate Expression 187 

On Plaintive Expression 188 



On Derision, Mockery, &c 197 

On Joy 199 

On Love 199 

SECTION XVIII. 

Conclusion of First Part 200 



XVI CONTENTS. 



PAET n. 



EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

PAGE 

Astronomy, Lecture on J. Phoenix. 31 

Alarmed Skipper J. T. Field. 40 

Apple-Dumplings Wolcott. 42 

Address to the Ocean ..Byron. 45 

Adam's Morning Hymn Milton. 52 

Apostrophe to Light Milton. 61 

Antony's Oration Shakspeare. 79 

Anthology, Russian Derzhavin. 123 

Attainment of Eloquence Ware. 134 

Account Current 148 

Address to the Deity Mrs. Barbauld. 180 

Adversity Gray. 204 

Antony over Caesar's Body Shakspeare. 213 

Address to the Deity ....Young. 232 

Apostrophe to Greece Byron. 240 

Battle of Waterloo Byron. 27 

Barere, Memoirs of Macaulay. 53 

Bozzaris Halleck. 57 

Brougham and Canning 70 

Battle of Warsaw Campbell. 75 

Burial Service 100 

Battle of Hohenlinden , Campbell. 140 

Burial of Sir John Moore Wolfe. 142 

Battle of Ivry Macaulay. 197 

Battle-Field R. Coates. 206 

Clarence's Dream Shakspeare. 26 

Columbus, Reception of. Irving. 149 

Cicero against Verres 153 

Conversion of St. Paul Lyttelton. 163 

Chameleon Merrick. 182 

Child J.Baillie. 211 



CONTENTS. XV11 

PAGE 

Close of Life Blair. 220 

Creation to Praise its Author Ogilvie. 223 

Cuckoo Cowper. 227 

Dirge in Cymbeline Collins. 99 

Douglas's Account of Himself. Home. 146 

Decision of Character J- Foster. 187 

Death of a Cat, Gray. 203 

Discipline Cowper. 213 

Elegy in Churchyard Gray. 126 

Eloquence, Attainment of Ware. 134 

Epiphany Heber. 143 

Earthquake in Calabria Goldsmith. 219 

Endeavors of Mankind to get rid of their Burdens Addison. 256 

Falstaff's Ragged Regiment Shakspeare. 13 

Fat Actor 36 

Frost H. Field. 60 

Friendship Cowper. 173 

Fly and Spider 194 

Fortitude Blair. 220 

Friendship, Disinterested Cicero. 234 

Gascon Peasant Wolcott. 116 

Gummere, John W. J.Allinson. 160 

Good Man's Comfort Blair. 226 

Gray Forest Eagle A. B. Street. 247 

Happiness of Temper Goldsmith. 3 

Hamlet's Soliloquy Shakspeare. 67 

Hermit Beattie. 77 

Hamlet's Advice to Players Shakspeare. 107 

Hyder Ali Burke. 144 

Hare and Friends Gay. 167 

Henry V. before Harfleur Shakspeare. 193 

Hope R. Coates. 195 

Isaiah, Thirty-Fifth Chapter 108 

Isaiah, Fortieth Chapter 158 

John, Fourth Chapter 119 

Lochinvar Scott. 136 

Lucy Wordsworth. 210 

Militia-General Corwin. 6 

Millennium Cowper. 21 

Macbeth Shakspeare. 87 

2* 



xvm CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Milton, on Loss of Sight E. Lloyd. 97 

Meeting of Satan and Angels Milton. 109 

Mariner's Dream Dimond. 138 

Maniac Lewis. 185 

New England McLennan. 86 

Old Cheese ..Dr. King. 17 

Ode on the Passions Collins. 87 

Othello's Address Shahspeare. 105 

Old Oaken Bucket Woodworth. 190 

On Prayer Montgomery. 250 

Paper Franklin. 10 

Pitt, Reply of 19 

Paul's Defence 48 

Passage of Rubicon Woodworth. 96 

Pity, Good Gentlefolks MacKellar. 102 

Prodigal Son 104 

Psalm CXXXIX Ill 

Pitt, Earl of Chatham Woodworth. 121 

Poetry of the Bible S. R. G. 215 

Psalm of Life Longfellow. 218 

Quakerism Bancroft. 237 

Report of an Adjudged Case Cowper. 12 

Right to Tax America Burke. 39 

Razor Seller, Wolcott. 68 

Ring out, Wild Bells Tennyson. 148 

Saint Nicholas C. C. Moore. 15 

South Carolina and Massachusetts Webster. 38 

Song of Moses 47 

Satan's Soliloquy Milton. 48 

Scene from Lights and Shadows Professor Wilson. 62 

Street Scene Shakspeare, 82 

Speech of Patrick Henry Wirt. 91 

Sincerity Tillotson. 94 

Satan, Sin, and Death Milton. 131 

Speech of Earl of Chatham 189 

Three "Warnings Mrs. Thrale. 72 

Task, Extracts from , Cowper. 112 

The Turf shall be my Fragrant Shrine Moore. 246 

Vaudois Merchant Whittier. 161 

Village Preacher Goldsmith. 201 



CONTENTS. xix 

PAQB 

Winter Evening Cowper. 8 

War Channing. 24 

Wolsey, Downfall of Shakspeare. 191 

Washington Bancroft. 242 

What is Time? 252 

War and Peace Barnes. 253 



GUMMERE'S COMPENDIUM. 



PART I 



SECTION i. 

OF SOUND. 

Since the whole business of the teacher of Elo- 
cution, has relation to sound, and to its modifications 
of force, time, and pitch, it would seem proper, that, 
at the outset of a treatise upon the subject, the stu- 
dent should be told, what sound is, how produced, 
and what constitute its force, pitch, and time. In 
accordance with this view, I shall devote this section 
to a brief consideration of this subject. 

Sound, is, generally, produced by causing some 
solid, elastic body, surrounded by air, to vibrate. 
These vibrations, are communicated to the con- 
tiguous air, and from that, to portions of air, more 
and more remote from the vibrating substance, until 
they reach the tympanum of the ear, and cause the 
sensation, called sound. These vibrations in the 

1 



2 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

air, are not perceptible to the eye, because the air is 
invisible ; but, they may be illustrated by the effect 
produced, by throwing a pebble, into a pond of per- 
fectly smooth water. In this case, a succession of 
little waves, will proceed, from the point where the 
pebble strikes, to a considerable distance ; that dis- 
tance depending upon the force, with which the 
pebble is made to strike the water, and, upon the 
smoothness of its surface. So, in the case of sound. 
The distance, to which it extends, depends upon the 
force with which the elastic body is made to vibrate, 
and, upon the stillness, of the air. If the vibrations 
be strong, and the air still, the sound will extend to 
a great distance ; but, if the vibrations be weak, or 
the air be agitated, the distance will be much less- 
ened. At times, even on a comparatively still day, 
a person may approach within two miles of the Falls 
of Magara, (especially, if there be a slight wind 
blowing from him, toward the Falls,) without hear- 
ing the roar ; and yet, on a still evening, he may 
sometimes hear it, at the distance of fourteen miles, 
or more. 

For the purpose of explaining the force, pitch, and 
time of sound, we cannot do better than to refer to 
a string of the violin, or of the bass-viol. Let one 
of the strings be drawn to the proper degree of 
tension, and then, draw the bow across it, near the 
bridge of the instrument ; the whole of the string, 
between the nut and the bridge, will vibrate, and 
produce a sound. If the bow be drawn very lightly 
over the string, the sound will be comparatively 
feeble ; but, if the bow be very forcibly drawn, the 
sound will be much louder, and extend to a much 



OF SOUND. o 

greater distance ; and the feebleness or loudness of 
the sound, will correspond with the force with which 
the bow is drawn. 

If we bring one of the other strings of the instru- 
ment, to the same degree of tension, and then draw 
the bow across that, in the same way, we shall find 
a very marked difference, between the sound it pro- 
duces, and that made by the first string. If the 
second string be larger, or, rather, heavier, than the 
first, its sound will be lower, or graver, than that of 
the first; but, if the second string be lighter than 
the first, its sound will be higher, or more acute. 
These differences in gravity or acuteness, are called, 
both in the language of music, and the language of 
speech, differences in Pitch. They are altogether 
independent of all differences in the force of the 
sounds. A sound may be very low in pitch, and yet, 
very loud or forcible ; or, it may be very high in 
pitch, yet very feeble in force or loudness. 

We may produce differences in the pitch of sounds 
emitted by the same string, or rather, by the whole 
string, and parts of it. Let us draw the bow, so as 
to make the whole string vibrate, and notice the 
pitch of the sound. Then, with the finger, press the 
string down upon the finger board, at some point 
between the nut and the bridge, and draw the bow, 
as before. In this case, only that part of the string 
between the finger and the bridge, will vibrate, and 
the sound will be more acute, than when the whole 
string vibrates ; and the shorter, the part of the 
string vibrating, the higher, the pitch of the sound. 

From what has been said, we learn, that of strings 
of the same length and tension, the heavier the string, 



4 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

the lower, or graver, will be the sound it causes ; and 
that, when strings are of the same tension, and of 
the same proportionate weight, the shorter the string, 
the higher, will be the pitch of the sound, it gives. 
If we increase the tension or tightness of any one 
of the strings of the instrument, and draw the bow, 
we shall find that its sound is made higher, by the 
change ; and if we lessen the tension, gradually, the 
sound will become more and more grave, until it 
ceases entirely. 

"We thus, learn, that the varieties in pitch, of the 
sounds given by different strings, depend upon the 
length, the weight, and the tension of those strings. 
If the string be long, or heavy, or of slight tension, 
its sound will be, comparatively, low, or grave ; but, 
if the string be short, or light, or of high tension, 
its sound will be high, or acute. But why is this ? 
What effect, does a difference in the length, the 
weight, or the tension of a string, have upon its vi- 
brations, which, as we have seen, are the cause of 
sound? If we give to the expert mathematician, 
the length, the weight, and tension, of a string, he 
can calculate the number of vibrations it will make 
in a second. He finds also, that if we increase the 
length, or the weight of the string, or diminish its 
tension, the number of vibrations, in a second, will 
be lessened. But, either of these changes would 
make the pitch of the sound lower, or more grave. 
Hence, we infer, that the pitch of a sound depends 
upon the rapidity of its vibrations. Any circum- 
stance, that increases the number of vibrations, in a 
given time, raises the pitch of the sound ; and any, 
that diminishes the number, lowers the pitch. 



OF SOUND. 



We have thus seen what causes either a low, or 
high pitch in sound ; but for the pur- 
poses, hoth of the musician and the 
elocutionist, something more specific 
is required. They must know, how 
much higher, or lower, in pitch, one 
sound is, than another, with which it is 
compared. Hence, the necessity of a 
scale, for the measurement of pitch. 
The scale adopted, can best be explain- 
ed, by reference to one of the strings 
of the violin, or base viol. The pupil 
should give close attention to the fol- 
lowing description of this scale. 

Let the line A.B, in the figure in the 
margin, represent one of the strings ; 

A, being the point, at which the string 
presses upon the nut of the instrument, 
and B, the point at which it presses 
upon the bridge. Then, let the points 
2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8, be marked upon 
the finger board, so that the distance 
from 2, to B, will be § of the whole 
distance from A to B ; from 3, to B, J 
of the whole distance ; from 4 to B, f 
of it ; from 5 to B, § of it ; from 6 to 

B, | of it; from 7 to B, ft of it; and 
from 8 to B, J of the whole distance. 
Then, let permanent marks be made 
across the finger board, at right angles 
to the string, through the points 2, 3, 
4, 5, 6, 7, and 8, respectively. Then, 
stretch the string to a proper degree of 



»8 



>* 



'3 



• 2 



*I 



6 PEINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

tension, and draw the bow across it, near B, and the 
whole string will vibrate, and give a sound of a cer- 
tain pitch, depending upon the length, weight, and 
tension of the string. If now the finger be pressed 
down upon the string, at the line passing through 2, 
and the bow be drawn, as before, only that part of 
the string, between 2 and B, will vibrate, and the 
pitch of the sound will be higher than before, because 
the number of vibrations will be greater. By press- 
ing the string successively upon the lines passing 
through 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, and 8, we shall have, in the 
whole, eight sounds, each higher in pitch than the 
preceding. When the string is pressed down upon 
8, the number of vibrations, in a second, will be ex- 
actly double of those made when the whole string 
vibrates ; and the number, when the string is pressed 
at any one of the other points, will be inversely pro- 
portional to the length of that part of the string 
which vibrates. If we take the point 2, for instance, 
then, the number of vibrations, compared with the 
number made by the whole string, will be as § is to 
1, or as 9 to 8. A similar proportion would give 
the number, and, of course, the comparative pitch 
for any of the sounds. 

If we divide the half of the string, that is, the 
distance from 8 to B, in the same proportion that 
we divided the whole string, we shall obtain another 
series of eight sounds, taking the eighth of the first 
series, for the first of the second, bearing exactly 
the same relationship, in pitch, to each other, as 
those of the first series. 

Each one of the sounds given in any such scale, 
is called a Note; and the difference, in sound, be- 



OF SOUND. 7 

tween any two notes of such a series, whether con- 
tiguous, or more remote, is called an Interval. Each 
of the following intervals, is called a Tone: viz, that 
between the first and second notes, that between the 
second and third, between the fourth and fifth, be- 
tween the fifth and sixth, and between the sixth and 
seventh. The intervals between the third and fourth 
notes, and between the seventh and eighth, being 
ouly about half as great as the others, are called 
Semitones. The interval between the first and third 
notes of any such series, is called a Third; that 
between the first and fifth notes, is called a Fifth ; 
and that between the first and eighth, is called an 
Octave. The interval of a Third, consists of two 
Tones ; and the interval of a Fifth, consists of three 
Tones and a Semitone. The interval between the 
second and fourth, or the sixth and eighth notes, of 
any such series, consisting of but a Tone and a 
Semitone, is called a Minor Third. 

It has been stated, that, as the vibrating string is 
shortened, the number of vibrations, is increased, 
and, consequently, the pitch raised. If then, we 
press the string, at a dozen or more places, between 
A, and 2, or between 2 and 3, so as to shorten the 
string, each time, we shall have a succession of notes, 
each slightly higher than the preceding. If, instead 
of this, we slide the finger upon the string from A 
to 2, or from 2 to 3, so as to press it to the finger 
board, whilst vibrating, we shall have a sound that 
is continually rising in pitch, and which will be 
composed of every possible variety of pitch, within 
the interval of a tone. Such a sound is called a 
Concrete sound, and the interval it passes through, is 



8 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

called a Concrete interval. In the case supposed, 
we shall have a concrete tone. If we slide the 
finger from A to 3, we shall have a concrete third ; 
and so of all the other intervals of the scale, from 
that of a semitone to that of an octave. Each of 
these sounds, as it gradually rises in pitch, is called 
a Rising Concrete. If we slide the finger, upon the 
string, in the opposite direction, so as gradually to 
increase the length of the vibrating string, the 
sound will become more and more grave, or lower 
in pitch, and the concrete, thus formed, is called a 
Falling Concrete; and this, like the rising concrete, 
may be through any interval, from the semitone, to 
the octave. The intervals made when we press the 
string only upon the successive points, marked on 
the finger board, are called Discrete Intervals. 

It is not to be supposed that the beginner in the 
study of elocution, can perceive the object, in thus 
describing the musical scale, and its different notes, 
intervals, &c. Let him, however, study them well 
and make himself master of them ; being assured, 
that the more perfectly he accomplishes this, the less 
difficulty he will find, in understanding many of the 
subsequent parts of this work. 



SECTION n. 

OF THE MECHANISM OF THE VOICE. 

As stated in the preceding section, whenever an 
elastic body is caused to vibrate, with sufficient 
rapidity and force, a sound will be produced. This 



MECHANISM OF THE VOICE. 9 

vibration may be caused by the impingement of 
some solid substance upon the elastic body, as in the 
beating of the Drum, or the striking of the keys of 
the Piano ; by the rushing of a current of air against 
the elastic body, as in the .zEolian Harp, the Trumpet, 
or the Horn; or, in fact, by any other operation, 
which forces the elastic body out of its natural 
shape and then leaves it free to vibrate. The appa- 
ratus for producing human sounds, acts upon the 
principle of the ^Eolian harp, or the horn. Let us 
proceed to consider its several parts; bearing in 
mind that most of the organs employed in producing 
and modifying sounds, serve more than one purpose. 
Every human being has, within the chest, an ap- 
paratus called the Lungs* the substance of which is 
spongy, and contains an immense number of very 
minute cavities or cells for the reception of air. 
From each of these cells proceeds a very minute 
tube, or passage for air. These tubes, as they ex- 
tend from their respective cells, gradually unite with 
others, and form larger tubes, and these larger ones 
again unite, until, finally, two large canals or streams 
are formed (one in each lobe of the lungs) called 
Bronchia. These bronchia then unite, and form the 
Trachea, or wind pipe, which extends upwards and 
opens into the mouth. At the upper end of the trachea, 
is a kind of box, called the Larynx. The larynx is 
covered by a membranous substance, not very unlike 
the head of a drum, in the middle of which, is a 
long, and rather narrow, aperture, called the Glottis. 
At the sides of the glottis, are two chords, to which 
the said membrane is attached, called the Chords of 

* See Wood-puts and Explanations oil pages 204-20C. 
3* 



10 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

the Glottis. The larynx, and, also, the membrane 
and chords, when in a proper state of tension, are 
highly elastic. The aperture, or glottis, is covered 
by a fleshy, or rather, cartilaginous substance, called 
the Epiglottis. This epiglottis generally stands open, 
so as to allow a free passage for the air, either into, 
or from the trachea ; but it is closed, by a muscular 
motion, whenever we swallow our food or drink. 
The primary purpose of this apparatus, is, to enable 
us to breathe ; that is, to receive air into the lungs, 
and to emit it therefrom. 

This operation of breathing, without which life 
cannot be sustained, may be explained in the follow- 
ing manner. The first operation (which commences 
with the new-born infant, and is never suspended, 
for more than a few seconds, during life) is, to in- 
crease the capacity or size of the chest, by raising 
the ribs and depressing the diaphragm (the partition 
between the chest, or thorax, and the abdomen) by 
muscular force. This increased capacity of the 
thorax, causes a vacuum within, and, all the pas- 
sages being open, the air rushes into the cells of the 
lungs, to fill it. Then the ribs are depressed and 
the diaphragm raised, diminishing the capacity of 
the thorax, and forcing a part of the air out. Again 
the capacity of the thorax is increased, as before, 
and the cells are filled ; and again the ribs are de- 
pressed and the diaphragm raised, and the air ex- 
pelled. These successive muscular actions, increasing 
and diminishing the capacity of the chest, are invo- 
luntary ; for they go on, while we are sleeping, and 
the will does not act, as regularly as when we are 
awake. 



MECHANISM OP THE VOICE. 11 

But, if we will it, we may increase the capacity 
of the thorax more suddenly, and to a greater extent, 
than in ordinary breathing ; and we may also expel 
the air from the lungs, through the trachea, larynx, 
and glottis, with vastly greater force. If then the 
air be forced from the lungs, when the chords of the 
glottis, and the membrane attached to them, are in a 
proper state of tension, they will be made to vibrate, 
by the force of the air, and a sound will be produced. 
If the tension be great, the pitch of the sound will 
be high. If the tension be less, the pitch of the 
sound will be lower. If the chords be still further 
relaxed, the air may be forced out with the utmost 
possible rapidity, and yet the sound will be nothing 
more than a loud whisper. It is most likely that 
the vibrations of the larynx are also concerned in 
the production of sound. We cannot see these 
operations, and cannot, therefore, be absolutely cer- 
tain, whether one alone, or both combined, produce 
the effect ; but we are certain that all vocal sounds, 
whatever may be their pitch, are produced by the 
vibrations of the apparatus at the top of the trachea. 
The sense of feeling, by the application of the thumb 
and finger, to the outside of the neck, over the 
larynx, assures us of that. If this be true, then, the 
notions of one kind of voice, from the chest, and 
another from the head, are mere chimeras, without 
any foundation in fact. 

In thus forcing the air from the lungs, and causing 
sound, we may cause the whole quantity of the air 
to form only one continuous sound, or, we may 
force it out in jets, with slight intermissions be- 
tween them, forming several sounds of the same 



12 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

pitch, or some higher and some lower. These jets 
of sound may be considered as the raw material 
from which words are manufactured, by a process 
which we will now proceed to explain. 



SECTION HI. 



OF THE FORMATION OF WORDS AND SYLLABLES AND OF 
THE ELEMENTARY SOUNDS. 

The jets of sound spoken of, at the close of the 
last section, it was said, might be considered as the 
raw material, out of which we manufacture words. 
If it should be asked why I speak of manufacturing 
words, after the sounds are actually made, I answer, 
that if we make several separate sounds of the same 
kind, at the top of the trachea, they may pass out 
through the mouth or nostrils, or through both, in 
such manner as to have little resemblance to one 
another. One may come out as that we indicate by 
the letter A; another, as that indicated by E; 
another, as that indicated by I; another, as that in- 
dicated by the three letters, ARM; another, as that 
indicated by the four letters, WARM; and so on. 
"Whether it shall be one sound, or another, when it 
comes forth, will depend upon the position of organs, 
situated above those, which cause the original sound ; 
such as the tongue, the palate, the teeth, the lips, 
&c. If these organs have a certain position, the 
sound will always come out, A; if they have another 
position, it will come out, 0; if another, LOVE; 
if another, HORN; and so on, with almost endless 



FORMATION OF WORDS AND SYLLABLES. 13 

variety. If we listen, attentively, to the utterance 
of such sounds as those indicated above, we shall 
discover that some of them are uniform, in kind, 
from beginning to end; while, in others, a manifest 
change takes place, so that in the middle, or at the 
end, the sound is entirely different from that at the 
beginning. A, E, I, and 0, are of the former kind ; 
and ARM, WARM, LOVE, and HORN, are of 
the latter. These latter sounds are, therefore, com- 
pound; and the former are simple. The component 
parts of compound sounds, we call elementary sounds. 
Some of these elementary sounds, are common to 
most, if not all, living languages ; while some are 
found in our language, and not in others. "We shall 
confine our observations to the elementary sounds 
of the English language, alone. 

In speaking of the formation of words, it was 
stated that they consisted of jets of sound, modified 
or put into form, as they pass from the larynx, 
through the mouth or nose, to the open air. Each 
of the words named above, consists of a single jet. 
But some of our words are made up of two, or more, 
of these jets, or vocal impulses. The separate jets 
that make up words of the latter kind, we call 
syllables ; and, generally, we apply the same name to 
each vocal impulse, whether the word consists of 
one or more. When a word consists of two or more 
impulses, in uttering it, we make one of them more 
conspicuous than the rest, by what we call accent; 
of which we shall speak hereafter. 

Before saying anything further of the elementary 
sounds, it may be well to make a few observations, 
upon the subject of language, in general. The first 



14 PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 

is, that language, as we now understand it, is of two 
kinds ; the first, oral, or uttered by the organs of 
speech ; and the second, written. The oral language 
was the original, or primary one. But, as mankind 
advanced in intelligence, it became desirable to nave 
some mode of preserving the thoughts or ideas of 
wise men, for future reference or use. The first 
attempts at this, were, no doubt, rude, and only 
partially successful, as we may learn, by reference 
to the Egyptian hieroglyphics. Finally, letters were 
invented ; that is, certain characters, intended to re- 
mind the student, of the different elementary sounds 
of the language ; which, in any language, are not 
very numerous ; but which, by their different com- 
binations are susceptible of a vast variety. To these 
letters, or written characters, certain names were 
given, which, when uttered, were, in some instances, 
identical with the sounds they were intended to re- 
mind us of; but, in most cases, very different from 
those sounds. To these characters, or letters, the 
name of Alphabet, is applied. The alphabet we use 
was first contrived by the Romans, and since adopted 
in the English language. It consists of twenty-six 
distinct characters. If this alphabet contained as 
many characters or letters, as there are elementary 
sounds in the language, and if each of those letters 
was always used to remind us of the same sound, 
then we might consider our alphabet as perfect. 
But this is very far from the fact. We have, in the 
English language, thirty-six elementary sounds, and 
only twenty-six characters to remind us of them. 
In order to supply this deficiency in the number of 
letters, we are obliged to use the same letter to indi- 



FORMATION OF WORDS AND SYLLABLES. 15 

cate more than one sound ; and this makes diffi- 
culty both in the spelling and the pronunciation of 
many of our words. To add to this, we have 
adopted, for some words, the strangest spelling 
imaginable. "What, for example, can be more ab- 
surd, than to take the four letters, "eigh", to indi- 
cate the simple sound "a", as in "neigh", or in, 
"inveigh"? Or to pronounce ough, nf, as in the 
word "rough", oh, as in the word, "lough", ou, as in 
the word, "plough", o, as in the word, "though", and 
oo, as in the word, "through"? But, as we are not 
very likely to have our alphabet reformed, it is, per- 
haps, the more necessary to learn what the real ele- 
mentary sounds of the language are. Another 
cause, may be assigned, for some of the imperfec- 
tions in the spelling and utterance of our words. 
In our primary schools, in general, the pupil is only 
taught the names of the letters of the alphabet, with- 
out any attempt to teach him the sounds, which they 
are intended to remind us of. Nor is this deficiency 
supplied in our higher seminaries of learning. It 
might, indeed, be safely asserted, that, of every hun- 
dred that graduate at our best colleges, not twenty- 
five would be found, who are well informed as to the 
elementary sounds of their own language. In fact 
the elementary books they use, necessarily preclude 
any such knowledge. When they commence the 
study of English Grammar, they are told that the 
sounds of the language consist of voivels and conso- 
nants; and, that a consonant cannot be perfectly 
sounded, without being combined with a vowel 
sound. Well might Dr. Rush ask if the man who 
first made this assertion, could have had an ear; 



16 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

and, were it not for the tenacity with which people, 
in general, adhere to opinions once received, the 
same question might be put, with equal pertinence, 
to those who continue to believe in a dictum so 
absurd, after their attention has been called to the 
subject. It may be safely asserted that no man 
speaks, in English, for ten minutes, without forming 
some of his syllables, of consonant sounds alone. 

It has been said that we have thirty-six elementary 
sounds, in our language. Let us now proceed to 
inquire what those sounds are, and how they differ, 
in character, from one another. It has already been 
intimated, that when the chords of the glottis are 
not in a proper state of tension, air may be forcibly 
expelled from the lungs, without producing any- 
thing more than a whispering, or aspirated sound. 
It may now be said that, even when the organs are 
in such a state as to vibrate freely, we have the 
power of forcing some of the air out, in this aspirated 
form, so as to mingle with the sound caused by the 
vibration. How this is done, I have not been in- 
formed, and do not pretend to know. I only know 
the fact. Perhaps the most probable explanation, of 
this mingling of aspiration, with clear vocality may, 
be, that, as there are two chords of the glottis, one 
of them is brought to such a state of tension, as to 
cause audible vibrations, while the other is so re- 
laxed, as to allow the air to pass by it without 
vibrating. Thirteen of our elements, in their 
purest state consist of sound produced by vibration 
alone; fourteen, by sound produced by vibration, 
combined with aspiration, or partial occlusion of 
sound ; and nine, by the aspirated breath alone. 



FORMATION OP WORDS AND SYLLABLES. 



17 



To the first class, Dr. Rush has given the appro- 
priate name of Tonics, taking that word, in one of 
the senses given in Webster. To the second class, 
as they consist only in part of tonic sound, Rush has 
given the name of Subtonics. To the third class, as 
they are void of tonic sound, he has given the name 
of Atonies. The first class are the vowel sounds of the 
books, and the second and third classes, are both 
comprised, in the old classification of consonants. 
In the following tables, the true sound of each ele- 
ment, is indicated by the italic letter, or letters, in 
the proper pronunciation of the annexed familiar 
syllables. In a few cases, w T e have to take tw T o letters 
to indicate the true sound, because no one letter, 
is ever used for that purpose, in our ordinary spell- 
ing. When a letter is used to indicate more than 
one sound, it is marked with a number, or figure 
over it. 

The Tonic Sounds. 
A, as heard in, A-le, ai-m, &c. 



2 

A, .. . 


.. , a-rm, a-rt, &c. 


A, .. . 


.. , a-11, w-<2-r, &c. 


A, .. . 


.. , a-n, a-tj &c. 


% .. . 


.. , ee-l, 1-ea-ve, &c. 


A .. . 


.. , e-nd, p-e-n, &c. 


i, .. . 


.. , isle, t-z-me, &c. 


i, .. . 


.. , z-n, £-11, &c. 


6, .. . 


.. , o-ld, oa-r, &c. 


6, .. . 


.. , oo-ze, pr-o-ve 


u, .. . 


.. , u-tii, w-p 


Ou, .. . 


.. , ou-r, -p-ow-er 


Oi, .. . 


. :., oi-\, b-oy. 



18 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 



The Sub tonic Sounds. 

B, as heard in, b-ow, ru-6 

D, , d-are, ba-d 

G> , 0-ive, ba-^r 

L, , l-ove, a-U 

M, , m-ay, ar-m 

N, , n-ay, pe-w 

K, , r-ow, wa-r 

V, .. .. V, v-ile, gi-ue 

"W, , w-oe, w-av 

J, , y-es, y-ear 

25, , z-one, do-ze 

Z, , a-2-ure, plea-s-ure 

Ng, , so-ng, thi-w-k 

Th, , th-en, wi-th. 

The Atonic Sounds. 

P, as heard in, p-in, u-p 

T, , t-in, pi-£ 

K, , A-ite, brin-A 

*\ ,/-at,sti-# 

S, , s-in, je-s 

H, .. .. .. , h-em, h-orn 

Sh, , sA-ort, pu-sA 

Th, , th-in, -pi-th 

Wh, , wh-ere, wh-ence. 

When the student shall have become able to pro- 
nounce each of these elementary sounds, in its sepa- 
rate state, with distinctness and force, the power 
of doing which may soon be acquired, it will be well 
for him to examine particularly into their suscepti- 



FORMATION OF WORDS AND SYLLABLES. 19 

bility of extension in time. He will find, when 
examining the tonic sounds, that the first three 
"As", the first "E", the first "I", the first and 
second "Os", the "Ou", and the "Oi", are suscep- 
tible of extension in sound to any degree, not incon- 
sistent with the power of forcing air from the lungs ; 
and also, that they may be pronounced, as a mere 
momentary impulse, of sound. He will also dis- 
cover, that the fourth "A", is less susceptible of ex- 
tension, without deforming its pronunciation ; and 
that the second "E", the second "I", and the "U", 
can only be uttered, as momentary impulses, with- 
out a very disagreeable drawl. Those that are sus- 
ceptible of this great extension, are called Long 
Tonics ; and the last three, just named, are called 
Short Tonics. Among the subtonics and atonies, it 
will be found that the first three, of each class, are 
essentially short, and that all the others, may be as 
much extended in sound as any of the tonics. 
These six short sounds are called Abrupt elements, 
or Abrupt subtonics, or atonies, as the case may be. 
In speaking of the formation of words, it was 
stated that each distinct jet, or impulse of sound, 
was called a Syllable. These syllables are, sometimes, 
simple, and, sometimes, compound ; that is, a syllable 
may, either, consist of a single elementary sound, 
or, of several, that will glide, smoothly, into a single 
impulse. "When a syllable has but one elementary 
sound, that one, is, generally, a tonic sound. There 
are some exceptions to this, however, as in the words 
"even," "driven," "riven," "striven," "heaven," 
&c, in the proper pronunciation of which, the 
second syllable of each, consists of the "n" alone. 



20 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

In the word "rythm," too, which is commonly 
thought to consist of but one syllable, but, which 
no one, can pronounce without two vocal impulses, 
the second syllable, consists only of the subtonic 
"m," and is thus divided, "ryth-rn." 

In the first paragraph of this section, it was said, 
that, whether a sound should come forth in one form 
or another, would depend upon the position of the 
organs, situated above, or exterior to, the glottis. 
It must not, however, be inferred from this, that 
those exterior organs, remain in the same position, 
during the entire continuance of the- sound. This 
is seldom the case, even when pronouncing a sylla- 
ble, composed of one element, alone; and never, 
when it is formed of two or more elements. If we 
pronounce either a, i, o, ou, or oi, very slowly, and 
observe strictly, we shall find that these organs 
change their position, during the progress of the 
sound. In uttering a or z, they will, toward the end 
of the sound, assume the same position they take, 
when pronouncing the element, e ; in pronouncing, 
o, or ou, they take the same position as when utter- 
ing o; and, in uttering oi, they assume the same, as 
when pronouncing the subtonic, y, or the tonic e. 
These Rve tonic sounds are, then, diphthongs; and 
they are the only diphthongs we ever hear, in pro- 
nunciation, however many we may have, in spelling. 

In uttering syllables composed of more than one 
elementary sound, the chauge of position of the ex- 
terior organs, may always be perceived. If we take 
the syllable, arm, for an example of this, we shall 
find that they first assume that position, which is 



FORMATION OF WORDS AND SYLLABLES. 21 

appropriate to the tonic element a, then that of the 
subtonic r, and lastly that of the subtonic m. In 
this case, as well as in most of the compound sylla- 
bles of the language, the change of position is easily 
made without interrupting the continuity of the 
sound. But, there are soin.e combinations of ele- 
mentary sounds, in a syllable, that are difficult, and 
others, that are impracticable. The difficult cases 
may be illustrated by the syllables breadth, deeds, 
bulge, faWn, £c. As an example of the impracticable, 
w r e may take the imaginary syllable, air. When 
trying to pronounce this, we go on smoothly, until 
the I, is finished ; but we cannot change the position 
of the organs, from that of I, to that of r, without a 
perceptible hiatus which ends that syllable, and ren- 
ders it impossible to sound the r, without a fresh 
impulse ; and that, makes another syllable. If we 
change the position of the subtonic elements, making 

2 

the syllable arl, we then, find no difficulty in causing 
the three elements to coalesce. A table of some of 
those syllables, most difficult of pronunciation, will 
be found at the end of this section, upon which, and 
upon similar combinations, the student should be 
required to practise, until the difficulties shall have 
been overcome. 

When syllables are composed of the short tonics 
and the abrupt elements only, they are mere mo - 
mentary impulses, and incapable of prolongation ; 
especially those which are composed of the short 
tonics and the abrupt atonies ; such as, et, ik, up, pet, 
tik, cup, &c. When the short tonics are combined 
with the abrupt subtonics, as in bad, ig, big, beg, frc, 
the time of pronunciation can be sli^htl v lengthened. 

4* 



22 PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 

When syllables are composed of the abrupt sub- 
tonics and the long tonics, or, when they begin and 
end with these abrupt subtonics, and contain another 
subtonic, they admit of rather greater extension, 
without deforming the pronunciation. We may take 

3 3 3 4 

bad, dog, bog, glade, dag, gad, bag, glad, as examples. 

But those syllables most susceptible of extended 
pronunciation are such as are composed of long 
tonics alone, such as A, I, or 0, such as consist of 
long tonics and any of the subtonics, except the 
abrupt, such as, arm, morn, main, war, warm, or, such 
as contain all the different kinds, except the short 
tonics, of which the following may serve as examples ; 
viz. horn, (harn), charge (tshardz), strange (strandz), 
george (dzardz), and morn, (marn). 

In this connection, it may be said, that most peo- 
ple, in solemn reading or speaking, perceive the 
propriety of dwelling longer upon their syllables, 
than in simple narrative or description; and that 
many, deform their utterance, by attempting to give 
extension, to such as will not bear it ; and hence, 
adopt a most disagreeable drawl, or else fall into the 
intonation of song ; either of which, is inconsistent 
with good taste and propriety, in speech. We often 
hear the sacred name, God, pronounced as if it were 
the syllable gaud; which, to a well trained ear, is 
exceedingly offensive. When propriety requires 
slow time, in reading and speaking, the effect 
should be produced, by giving extended time, upon 
such syllables as will bear it, and letting the others 
receive only such as they will bear, without offend- 
ing the ear. 



FORMATION OF WORDS AND SYLLABLES. 23 

Table of Difficult Syllabic Combinations, 



COMBINATIONS. 


EXAMPLE. 


bd, dst, 


Orb'd, prov' dst. 


bz, bzt 


-probes, prob'st. 


dlst, did, dldzt 


handl'st, handl'd, handl'dst. 


dn, dnz't, dnd, dndz't hard'n, hard'nst, hard'nd, hard' 


dth, dths, 


breadth, breadths. 


gd, gdst, 


bragg'd, br&gg'dst. 


glzt, gld, gldzt, 


mangl'st, mangl'd, mangl'dst. 


gzt> 


wag'st. 


did, 


hedg'd. 


Idz, Idzt, 


holds, hold" st. 


Mz, Idzd 


bulge, bnhfd. 


In, 


fall'n. 


Ivd, Ivz, 


shelv'd, shelves. 


Ikt, Ikts 


mulct, mulcts. 


Ifth, Ifths, 


twelfth, twelfths. 


mz, md, mdzt., 


tombs, entomb' d, entomb' dst. 


mf, mfs, 


nymph, nymphs. 


rbzt, rbd, rbdzt, 


barb'st, barb'd, barb' dst. 


i i 
rdz, rdzt, 


bards, herd'st. 


2 2 

rdz, rdzd 


urge, urg'd. 


md, mzt, mdzt 


bum'd, bujii'st, bum'dst. 


rvz, rvzt, rvd, rvdzt 


curves, curv'st, curv'd, curv'dst. 


rtsh, rtshst 


search, search* st. 



The above, is only a sample of the difficulties that 
occur, in pronunciation. The pupil should be exer- 
cised upon them, until he can pronounce each, with 
facility and correctness; and then, he will not be 
likely to find difficulty with others, which may 
occur, in the course of his reading and speaking. 



24 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

SECTION IV. 

OF FORCE OF VOICE AND THE RADICAL AND VANISH. 

To an intelligent student of Elocution, it must be 
evident that, for some of the purposes of speech, we 
are required to speak very loudly ; and, for others, 
with much less force. A speaker addressing a large 
audience, upon an exciting subject, should employ 
all the force, or loudness he can command, without 
injuriously straining his organs of voice; but, if he 
be reading or speaking to a small company, upon a 
grave, melancholy, or plaintive, subject, the force 
must be greatly reduced. It may be thought, by 
some, that the power of using great loudness of 
speech, is confined to a comparatively small number 
of persons. It will not be denied that the vocal 
organs, in some, are better adapted to forcible utter- 
ance, than in others; but, it may be positively 
asserted that, by judicious exercise, even the weakest 
organs, may be greatly strengthened. If this be 
true, it is the duty of the instructor in Elocution to 
point out to his pupils, this judicious exercise, so that 
they may pursue it understandingly. To do this 
properly, it will first be necessary, to make the stu- 
dent sensible of what it is, that gives force or loud- 
ness to the sounds we utter, and to inform him, that 
this force is applied in several different ways, each 
of which, has its appropriate place in speech. This, 
we will now attempt. 

In the first section, it was stated, that the loudness 
or force of sound, depends upon the extent, of the 



FORCE OP VOICE. 25 

vibrations made by the elastic body producing it, 
and not upon the number, made in a given time. 
We have already seen, that the extent of the vibra- 
tions, will depend upon the amount of force, applied 
to the elastic body. If the bell be very lightly 
tapped, the extent of the vibrations will be small, 
and the sound feeble ; but, if it be struck a hard 
blow, the extent will be great, and the sound, loud. 
So, if the bow, be very lightly drawn, across the 
string of the violin, the sound will be feeble; but, 
if the bow, be forcibly drawn across it, the sound 
will be louder, and the vibrations, will be more ex- 
tensive. So, if an ^Eolian harp, be placed in the 
window, where the current of air, passing over the 
strings, is light, the extent of the vibrations, will be 
small, and the sound, feeble ; but, if a strong cur- 
rent of air, be rushing through the opening, the ex- 
tent of the vibrations will be greater, and the sound, 
louder. Thus it is, with the current of air passing 
from the lungs. If it pass slowly, the sound may be 
very feeble, or even inaudible; but, if the air be 
caused to pass, with extreme rapidity, the extent of 
the vibrations, will be so increased, as to make the 
sound, very loud. 

Now, it is doubtless true, that, in the effort to 
cause such a forcible expulsion of air, from the lungs, 
they may be injured. But the principal, if not the 
only, danger of such injury, arises from making 
such efforts, when the lungs are not well filled with 
air. If we be careful to fill the lungs, by a full in- 
spiration, immediately before such effort, the danger 
is removed. If a person, unused to the exercise, 
cause a number of very strong expulsions, in quick 



26 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

succession, he may make himself hoarse, by strain- 
ing the chords of the glottis. In the same man- 
ner, he may make the muscles of his arm very sore, 
by strong efforts to cast stones, to a great distance, 
when he is out of practice. But, if the same per- 
son were to begin his exercise, by throwing the 
stone, to a much less distance, and extending that, 
gradually, from day to day, he would be able to ex- 
ceed, in effect, anything he could have accomplished, 
without such training ; and that, without producing 
any soreness of muscles. So, in our efforts to ac- 
quire the power of speaking very loudly, if we 
begin moderately, and strive to increase the loudness 
gradually, being always careful to keep the lungs 
well supplied with air, we shall succeed, without 
danger of injury. 

When we are speaking of the different degrees of 
loudness in speech, in reference to sentences or para- 
graphs, we use the term Loudness or Force; but, 
when we refer to the separate syllables, we apply 
the term Stress, There are several modes, in which 
stress, is applied to syllables ; and, as each mode has 
its own effect, upon the expression of speech, and 
one of them, can never be substituted for another, 
without injuring, or destroying the effect, intended to 
be produced, it is necessary that we should thoroughly 
understand what they are, and be able to use either of 
them, whenever our judgment tells us it is required. 

The first mode of giving stress to a syllable, is to 
commence the sound, with an abrupt loudness ; and 
then, allow the force to diminish gradually, until the 
sound ends. This is called the Radical (beginning) 
Stress. It is not possible to represent .to the eye, 



FORCE OF VOICE. 27 

with accuracy, that which is addressed only to the 
ear ; but, it may not be entirely useless, to attempt 
to explain what we mean by analogy. Perhaps the 
best figure we can present to the eye, on paper, as a 
symbol of the radical stress, is a triangle, the sides of 
which are straight lines, and the base, the arc of a 
circle ; as in figure 1, in the diagram on the next 
page. The loud sound, at the commencement of the 
syllable, is called the Radical, and the gradual dimi- 
nution in volume, is called the Vanish. 

Another mode of giving stress to syllables, is to 
commence with a comparatively feeble sound, swell 
out in loudness toward the middle, and then gradually 
diminish the force, to a vanish ; as in the case of the 
radical stress. This is called the Median (middle) Stress 
Figure 2, in the diagram, may be taken as its symbol. 
This mode of stress is generally used when slow time 
is required, in the pronunciation of our syllables. 

To express certain emotions of the mind, in a 
proper, or natural manner, it is necessary to cause 
the force or loudness, to continue uniform, or nearly 
so, throughout the syllable. This is called the 
Thorough Stress. Figure 4, in the diagram, is the 
appropriate symbol. 

On very rare occasions, it is necessary that we 
should commence the sound of a syllable, with com- 
parative feebleness, an-d increase the force, so as to 
terminate the sound with extreme loudness. This 
is called the Vanishing Stress, because the greatest 
force, is given at the place where, in ordinary speech, 
the vanish is appropriate. Figure 3, in the diagram, 
is the symbol. 

All these different modes of giving stress to syl- 



28 PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 

lables, are used both in feeble, and loud utterance. 
"When great loudness is given, the force is, in ordinary 
cases, applied principally to that part of the syllable 
from which the stress takes its name ; that is, in the 
Radical Stress, the increased loudness is applied to 
the beginning ; in the Median, to the middle ; in the 
Vanishing, to the end; and in the Thorough, to all 
parts alike. We may, however, and, sometimes, do, 
spread this increase over the whole syllable, in the 
first three just named, as well as in the Thorough 
Stress. "When, in the use of the regular Radical and 
Vanish, in speech, we thus spread additional force, 
over the whole syllable, it constitutes what is called 
the Loud Concrete, (Figure 5) which will be noticed 
hereafter. 



[ft II 



SECTION V. 

OP TIME AND QUANTITY. 



Every attentive observer, will notice, that the time, 
a good reader or speaker employs, in uttering a certain 
number of syllables, or in reading a paragraph or a 
page from a book, depends much upon the nature 
of the subject. If the subject be such as to excite 
gaiety, if it express anger, or if it be eager argument, 
the time will be, comparatively, short. In dignified 



TIME AND QUANTITY. 29 

discourse, in magnificent description, or in expressing 
the emotion of high admiration, of grief, or of scorn, 
the time will he long. It will also be observed, that 
these different rates of progress, in discourse, do not 
depend, solely, upon the length of the pauses, be 
makes in the reading or speaking. In slow reading 
or speaking, he will, indeed, make the pauses longer 
than in more rapid utterance ; but, were he to 
lengthen the time taken in the delivery of any given 
number of syllables, merely by long pauses, his 
delivery would appear to be very hesitating, and 
w r ould utterly fail to give the expression, or produce 
the effect, intended. In reading or speaking slowly, 
the good elocutionist, not only prolongs the pauses, 
which the sense requires, but, he dwells longer upon 
all such syllables as will bear extension. The time, 
we give to a syllable, is called Quantity ; and tbe 
quantity, is either long, or short, according to the time 
we take in pronouncing it. When speaking of the 
comparative rates, of uttering a given number of 
syllables, a paragraph, or a whole discourse, we say 
its time is either quick or slow ; but, when we refer 
to the time occupied by a single syllable, we say its 
quantity, is either short, or long, as the case may be. 
It has been said that, in slow reading and speaking, 
we must not only extend the quantity of such syl- 
lables as will bear it, but, that we must lengthen the 
pauses or rests, also. Pauses, in speech, are necessary, 
not only to express, with clearness, the meaning of 
the sentences we utter, but also, to enable us to inhale 
air. The quantity of air, the lungs can contain, even 
when fully extended, is not sufficient to form many 
syllables; especially, when the utterance is loud or 



30 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

forcible ; and, whenever the supply runs low, it must, 
necessarily, be renewed, by pausing, to inhale a fresh 
supply. If the quantity of our syllables be long, 
each of them requires more air, in its utterance, than 
if the quantity be short ; the loudness or force being 
the same. Consequently, when our quantity is long, 
the pauses, also, must be so increased, in length, as 
to allow us to make full inspirations ; or, we must 
make them more frequently, if they remain of the 
same length, as when we are using short quantity. 
But, short and very frequent pauses, when the quan- 
tity of our syllables is long, make a very unpleasant 
contrast; hence the necessity of long pauses, to keep 
up the supply of air. 

In connection with this necessity of inhaling air, 
it is proper to observe that public speakers, often 
injure themselves, when speaking loudly, by either 
making their pauses so few, or so short, as to prevent 
them, from keeping their lungs well supplied. Any 
forcible sounds, uttered, or any attempts to utter 
such, when the lungs are nearly exhausted of air, 
causes irritation, and, finally, an inflammation, which 
often proves very injurious, if not fatal. This effect 
is much more likely to be produced, in those, who 
read their discourses, standing in a bent position, 
and thus contracting the cavities of their chests, so 
much, that their lungs cannot expand sufficiently, to 
receive a full supply of air. Every man who depends 
upon his written discourse, when addressing a large 
audience, should have made himself so far master 
of his subject, that he may stand erect ; only giving 
an occasional glance at his manuscript. 

It has already been said, that syllables differ greatly 



TIME AND QUANTITY. 31 

from one another, in their susceptibility of exten- 
sion. Some, are mere momentary impulses, utterly 
incapable of extension, without deforming the pro- 
nunciation ; others, will bear slight extension, with- 
out any such unpleasant result ; and, again, others, 
may either be pronounced very short, or may be 
indefinitely extended. The student may take the 
three syllables fat, bad, and arm, each containing 
three elementary sounds, as a sample of the three 
classes. The first of these, he will find incapable 
of extension, however slow, may be the general time 
of his reading or speaking; to the second, a small 
additional quantity may be given, in slow utterance; 
and, the third, may be pronounced either as a mere 
sudden impulse, or be very greatly extended, with- 
out in the least, deforming its pronunciation. From 
what has been said, the student will infer that, when 
he ha3 to read in slow time, he must give the greatest 
quantity, to syllables of the third class ; much less, 
to those of the second class; and, that he should 
attempt no extension, upon those of the first. 

The power of giving extended quantity, in reading 
and speaking, without an unpleasant drawl, or falling 
into the intonation of song, is not possessed by all ; 
because, all have not been convinced of its necessity, 
and have not, therefore, attempted to acquire it. 
It is, however, one of th.Q most important requisites, 
in forming a good reader or speaker ; and no pains 
should be spared, in endeavoring to acquire it. The 
pupil should commence his efforts, by pronouncing 
in their order, all the long tonic sounds ; and not relax 
therein, until he can give great extension to each, 
or any of them, combined with perfect smoothness 



6Z PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

of voice. He may then begin upon syllables of the 
third class, such as arm, throne, horn, borne, war, roll, 
low, thy, thou, &c, and continue his practice, until 
he can give, to any of them, a smooth extension of 
quantity, as far as is consistent with the free exercise 
of the organs of breathing. After this, he will find 
no difficulty in giving to syllables of the second class, 
such as, bad, dog, God, rod, &c, all the quantity they 
will admit. 

His next practice, in endeavoring to acquire a 
perfect command, of a power so desirable, should be 
upon such lines of poetry, as the following ; in which 
those syllables, requiring greatest quantity, are indi- 
cated by italics. 

" High, on a throne of royal state," 

" Poured, through the mellow horn, her pensive soul," 

" Not so thou, unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play" 

"Such as creation's dawn, beheld, thou, rollest now." 

" Taught, by the heavenly muse, to venture down 
The dark descent," 

"When the student, shall have acquired the power, 
of doing full justice, to the extended quantity of the 
syllables, indicated in the foregoing extracts, he will 
find no difficulty in giving a proper degree of quan- 
tity, wherever his instructor, or his own judgment, 
shall tell him it is required, to give proper expression 
to what he is reading. 



PITCH OF THE VOICE. 33 

SECTION VI. 

OF THE PITCH OF THE VOICE. 

We have already learned, what causes the low, or 
high pitch, of sound, in general ; and, have been made 
acquainted, by reference to a musical string, with a 
scale, by which, we may measure the comparative 
pitches of different sounds. We have learned the names, 
of the different notes and intervals, of that scale, and 
the difference, between the discrete, and the concrete, 
intervals. It is now, necessary for us, to consider 
what reference, these have, to the voice, in speech. 

In the first place, it may be stated, that we make 
a concrete rise or fall in pitch, through some interval 
of the scale, upon every syllable we utter. The 
rising concretes, greatly preponderate, in number, 
over the falling. In all plain narrative, or descriptive 
discourse, excepting where an emphatic word occurs, 
the rise, or fall, is through the interval of a tone. 
Upon the emphatic words, in such discourse, we use 
concrete intervals of a third, or two tones. In all 
the modes of plaintive expression, such as, Pity, 
Sorrow, Condolement, Prayer, &c, if we read or speak 
properly, we use the concrete interval of a Semitone, 
upon each of the syllables. In all interrogative 
sentences, the concrete intervals upon some, or all 
of the syllables, must be greater than a tone, if we 
would read the questions, well. In plaintive dis- 
course, those intervals may be minor thirds ; but, in 
all other kinds of expression, they must be, either 
thirds, fifths, or octaves; the last, however, being 
rarely require^. In giving emphasis, we use either 



34 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

the minor third, the third, the fifth, or the octave, upon 
the accented syllable of the emphatic word. 

"We have just stated, that we either rise, or fall, in 
pitch, upon every syllable we utter. But, it may be 
observed here, that this rise, or fall, is not managed, 
in the same way, in all kinds of utterance. In speech, 
the rise, or fall, commences, simultaneously, with the 
first sound of the syllable, and continues, until the 
close of the sound. In recitative, or drawling utter- 
ance, the fullest sound is at the beginning of the 
syllable, and, it is continued, on the same pitch, for a 
greater or less period, depending upon the slowness 
or quickness of the utterance, and then rises, or falls, 
very quickly, through some interval of the scale, 
with greatly diminished force. In song, on the 
contrary, the rise, or fall, is very quickly made, at 
the commencement of the sound, and then, the voice 
swells out to greater fulness, and continues upon the 
same pitch, to the end of the syllable. These dif- 
ferent modes of utterance, may be illustrated, to the 
eye, by the three figures in the diagram below ; No. 1, 
representing the continuous rise, of speech ; No. 2, 
the movement of the voice, in recitative; and No. 3, 
its movement, in song. The second and third move- 
ments, should never be employed in reading or 
speaking; and, they never are used, in speech, by 
those who are well skilled in the art. Still, there 
are many, who terribly mar their speaking, by em- 
ploying one, or both of them. 



j cry y° 



PITCH OF TIIE VOICE. 35 

It has been said, that we either rise or fall, con- 
cretely, upon each syllable we utter, in speech. It 
may now be stated that, in order to give proper 
expression to discourse, we are often obliged to do 
both, upon the same syllable ; that is, we must either 
rise and fall, or fall and rise, upon the same syllable. 
This double concrete movement, is called the Wave 
of the voice ; and, it can only be effectively made, 
upon long syllables. It is used, in some of its forms, 
by good readers and speakers, whenever they employ 
slow time, and long quantity. 

When the wave, first rises, and then falls, upon 
the syllable, it is called a Direct Wave; and when it 
first falls, and then rises, it is called an Inverted 
Wave. The former is much more frequently used, 
than the latter. 

When both the rise and fall, or the fall and rise, 
are made through the same interval of the scale, the 
wave is said to be Equal; but, when one of the 
concretes, whether rising, or falling, is through a 
greater interval, than the other, the wave is said to 
be Unequal. 

Of the equal waves, those most frequently em- 
ployed, by good readers, are through the interval 
of the semitone, the tone, the third, or the fifth. But 
few voices, have sufficient power, and compass in 
pitch, to execute the equal wave of the octave; and 
the occasions, on which it would be desirable, to 
apply this movement, to a syllable, are very rare. 
The equal wave of the tone, is generally called the 
Wave of the Second; and, the other equal waves, are 
called the waves of the Semitone, the Third, the Fifth, 
and the Octave. All these movements may be illus- 



36 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

trated with the violin, by sliding the finger, first, 
up, and then, down, upon the string, while drawing 
the bow upon it, for the direct wave, and the reverse, 
for the inverted. 

"When the equal wave of the semitone, or second, 
is used, it is, generally, applied to all the long syl- 
lables that occur in a sentence or paragraph. The 
waves of the greater intervals, are commonly used 
for the purpose of giving emphatic distinction to 
particular words. That of the Third, however, may 
be used, in very glowing descriptions, upon all the 
long syllables in a sentence. 

As examples of the use of the equal waves of 
the Second, we- may take the syllables, high, throne, 
ray, pour'd, through, low, horn, change, save, wild, a, 
held, and roll, from the first four examples quoted 
on page 32. The words, dawn, and thou, in the 
fourth line, being moderately emphatic, require the 
equal wave of the third, to give them proper distinc- 
tion. The two words, soul, and play, requiring both 
long time and the falling concrete, or slide, where 
no emphasis is given to them, can only be properly 
pronounced here, by rising through a tone, and fall- 
ing through a third, upon each. The words, thou, 
waves and, now, requiring both the downward con- 
crete, and emphatic distinction, the voice should 
rise, through a third, and fall, through a fifth, upon 
each. 

If the last example, on page 32, be read with a 
decidedly plaintive intonation, the wave of the 
semitone, will be conspicuous, upon the syllables, 
taught, muse, down, and dark. This wave is well 
illustrated upon the syllables, Oh, soul, long, aud 



PITCII OF THE VOICE. 87 

plez, in the following line, from Campbell's "Exile 
of Erin." 

"Oh my sad soul, long abandoned by pleasure." 

In the science of music, they have adopted a mode 
of indicating, to the eye, the exact note, upon which, 
each syllable of a line, is to be sounded ; and, the 
same, in its simplest form, serves the purpose of the 
elocutionist. It is called the Staff; and is shown in 
the diagram below. The round mark upon the 
lowest line, indicates the lowest, or bass note, of any 
individual scale of eight notes. The mark in the 
space between the first and second lines, indicates 
the second note ; that on the second line, the third 
note ; that in the space between the second and 
third lines, the fourth note ; that on the third line, 
the fifth note ; that in the space between the third 
and fourth lines, the sixth note ; that on the fourth 
line, the seventh note ; and that in the space between 
the fourth and fifth lines, the eighth note, or octave, 
of the scale. 



-r — ~* 










<t% 


• 


w 






mf' 


-# 


9 






1 •- 


V 


TO 











According to what was said in the first section, in 
sounding the musical notes upon the foregoing staff, 
in regular succession, the intervals between the third 
and fourth, and between the seventh and eighth 
notes, marked by the curved lines, will be semi- 
tones; and each of the other intervals, between suc- 
cessive notes, will be whole tones. When we use 
this staff to indicate the pitch of the commencement 



38 



PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 



of the successive syllables, in speech, we consider 
each of these intervals to be whole tones; for a 
reason that will be given, when we come to speak 
of the Melody of Speech. In marking upon the staff, 
the wider concrete intervals, such as thirds, fifths, 
or octaves, the semitones are supposed to occupy 
their appropriate place, in the scale. 

Upon the staff below, are given symbols of all the 
concrete intervals, required in speech, except that 
of the semitone, for which the staff affords no appro- 
priate place, unless we suppose that all its intervals 
are semitones. This we should do, when we under- 
take to indicate the pitch, and the concrete, or wave, 
of the respective syllables, in lines of pathetic dis- 
course. Several forms of the wave, are exemplified, 
especially those that are most frequently required ; 
but, it would take too much room, to give a symbol 
for each that might be made. 

Rising Falling Rising Falling 

Tone. Tone. Third. Third. 





1 






4 


^ 


m/ 


*v 


w 




«r 













Rising 
Fifth. 



Falling 
Fifth. 



Rising 
Octave. 



Falling 
Octave. 



^-M^^ 



Direct Wave 
of Second. 



Inverted Wave 
of Second. 



Direct Wave 
of Third. 



Inverted Wave 
of Third. 



*^\ I vE 



ARTICULATION IN SPEECH. 



30 



Direct Wave 
of Fifth. 



Inverted Wave 
of Fifth. 



Direct Wavo 
of Octave. 



Inverted Wave 
of Octave. 



^g^B^S 



SECTION VIL 

OF ARTICULATION IN SPEECH. 

By Articulation, as applied to speech, we mean a 
clear and distinct pronunciation of every syllable we 
utter ; so that the hearers, shall never be at a loss, 
to know what each of those syllables is. This is the 
very groundwork of all good, reading and speak- 
ing; and yet, it is an accomplishment in which, 
almost every one, who reads or speaks, in public, is 
more or less deficient. Such being the fact, we 
shall endeavor to be as perspicuous as possible, in 
pointing out what constitutes a perfect articulation, 
and the kind of practice that should be adopted, in 
order to acquire it. 

When speaking of the formation of syllables, it 
was stated that a syllable might consist of a single 
elementary sound, or be composed of several such 
elements as would coalesce, smoothly, in a single 
impulse. It has also been stated, that upon every 
syllable we utter, the voice either rises or falls, or 
does both, concretely, through some interval of the 
scale. When the syllable commences with a tonic 
sound, the rise or fall, begins simultaneously with 
the sound; but, when subtonics or atonies, precede 
the tonic, the rise or fall does not begin, until the 



40 PRINCIPLES 01? ELOCUTION. 

sound of the tonic commences. Thus, in the syl- 
lable, i", the concrete commences with the sound; 
but, in pronouncing the syllable, bright, the pitch of 
the voice remains the same, until we commence the 
sound of the tonic, I, and the whole rise or fall is 
made upon that element, because neither the atonic, 
t, nor any of the other atonies, can take any part in 
the concrete movement. It is not because the sub- 
tonics cannot be made to partake of the concrete 
movement, that they take no part in the rise or fall 
upon the syllable, when they precede the tonic 
sound. A concrete rise or fall, may be made upon, 
br, in the above word, bright; but, in that case, a 
fresh impulse will have to be given, at the com- 
mencement of the tonic, I, which will, in fact, 
divide the word into two syllables, instead of one. 
The same effect, will be invariably produced, by 
giving a concrete movement to the subtonics of a 
syllable, which precede the tonic sound. The full 
vocality of the tonics, cannot be made to fall, 
smoothly, into a concrete that has been commenced 
upon the partial vocality of the subtonics. When, how- 
ever, the subtonics of a syllable, follow the tonic sound, 
as the, r and m, in the word arm, their subdued vo- 
cality fits them admirably for falling into the con- 
crete, commenced upon the full vocality of the tonic. 
"We have already learned that there are many 
combinations of elements, in syllables, that cause 
difficulty in pronunciation, and, a sample of such 
has been given, on page 23. But, it is not in such 
cases, alone, that articulation is imperfect. It is by 
no means uncommon, to hear the syllable, arm, pro- 
nounced as though it were spelled without the r. 



ARTICULATION IN BPEBOH. 41 

In the pronunciation of the same word, by other 
persons, we may, barely, perceive the sound of the 
?•, in the concrete movement, but, it is not allowed 
to have its proper time. Others, again, in pro- 
nouncing the same word, or those of similar forma- 
tion, will give so much time to the r, as to make it 
the most prominent element in the syllable. This 
is not so objectionable as to leave it out entirely; 
but, still, it deforms pronunciation, and should be 
carefully avoided. The rule should be, to sound 
every element, that is heard in the best pronuncia- 
tion of the syllable, and to give to each, its appro- 
priate time, and its due share in the concrete move- 
ment. Some persons fall into a habit of changing 
the element v, into w, in such words as veal, vinegar, 
vain, &c. ; and, many such, when their attention is 
called to the error, will either say they cannot pro- 
nounce the v, or, that they cannot perceive any dif- 
ference between them. To most of these, it might be 
said, you do pronounce the v, in such syllables as love, 
move, dove, &c, and therefore you can give the sound, 
and your failure to pronounce it, in all cases, in which 
it is required, is only the result of a bad habit, con- 
tracted in childhood, and which you have been too 
careless to correct; or if you really cannot pronounce 
that element, at present, it is time you had placed 
yourself under the drill of a proper instructor, who 
will teach you to do it, by showing you the very 
different positions of the organs of speech, required 
for the formation of these elements. To those who 
really cannot recognize a difference between the 
sounds of two elements, as different as Zand 0, if 
there be any such, we might say, your ears being 



42 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

too obtuse, to allow you to be a critic upon your 
own performance, in speech, it is useless for you to 
strive to be a good reader or speaker ; and, it would 
be presumption, in you, to pretend to judge of the 
oral performance of others. But, there are, in reality, 
no such persons, unless it be those whose general 
powers of hearing have been impaired by age or 
disease, or were originally defective, on account of 
some malformation of the organs of hearing. 

One of the most common defects in articulation, 
arises from a careless habit of pronouncing and, of, 
for, from, &c, and also, from changing the elements 
in the unaccented syllables of certain words. There 
are but few readers or speakers, who are not more 
or less censurable, for carelessness in such cases ; 
and there are many, who never read half a dozen 
lines, without exemplifying it. If you ask twenty 
persons to read a sentence, in which the phrase, 
"men and women", occurs, without informing 
them of your object, you will find that a large per 
centage of them, will pronounce that phrase, as 
though it consisted of two words only, each of two 
syllables, as if written thus ; men-n women ; another 
portion, of the twenty, will say, "men an women" ; 
and you may, perhaps, find one or two, who will 
say, "men and women". In fact, a person who 
listens attentively to reading and speaking, in gene- 
ral, will perceive that this conjunction, arid, is more 
frequently called by some other name, than by its 
own. The same will hold good, with respect to the 
prepositions of, for, and from. Take the phrase 
"men of wisdom", as it may occur in any didactic 
sentence, and let that sentence be read by any num- 









ARTICULATION IN SPEECH. 43 

ber of persons, in their ordinary mode, and you will 
find that a large proportion of them, pronounce that 
phrase, as if written, " men v wisdom" or, " men uv 
wisdom", instead of giving of, its true sound. Simi- 
lar observation will show that for, is very frequently 
called either fr, or fur; and from, either /rm, without 
any tonic sound, or frum, using a wrong tonic. 

The instances in which the elements, or at least 
one of the elements, in unaccented syllables, are 
changed, by great numbers of readers and speakers, 
are "too numerous to mention," as the auctioneers 
are wont to say, in their advertisements. The fol- 
lowing list contains a few of them, by way of 
sample ; and the examination of it, should prompt 
every one, wishing to become a good reader, to a 
careful attention to his own errors, in such cases. 
If, by such attention, he does not perceive that he 
is, sometimes, remiss, he may conclude that his arti- 
culation is much more perfect, than that of the 
average of readers. I have intermingled with the 
list, a few words, in the pronunciation of which, 
Walker either mistook the practice of the best 
speakers, in his own country, or in which their 
practice, differed from the rule with us. These 
words are marked with a W; and a few foot-notes 
will be found referring to them. 

In the first column of the following list, the words 
are given according to the spelling in the books. In 
the second column, the manner in which they are mis- 
pronounced by many readers ; and, in the third, the 
true pronunciation. For the pronunciation, in the 
second and third columns, the true sounds of the ele- 
ments are used, according to the tables on pp. 17, 18. 



44 



PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 



Abate 


1. ub-at 


a-bat 


abhor 


ub-har 


ab-har 


acquire 


uk-wlr 


ak-wlr 


across 


u-kraa 


a-kras 


affair 


u-far 


a-far 


amaze 


u-maz 


a-maz 


array 


ur-a 


ar-a 


arrear 


ur-£r 


ar-6r 


assign 


us-in 


as-ln 


awake 


u-wak 


a-wak 


Beneath 


2. bun-£th 


b5-neth 


because 


bu-kaz 


bd-kas 


bequeath 


bu-kw6th 


be-kweth 


Cabal 


ku-bal 


ka-bal 


canal 


kun-al 


kan-al 


combine 


3. kum-bin 


kam-bin 


compact 


kum-pakt 


kam-pakt 


compile 


kum-pll 


kam-pil 


conceit 


kun-s£t 


kan-s£t 


conceive 


kun-s£v 


kan-sev 


condole 


kun-ddl 


kan-ddl 


confess 


kun-fes 


kan-fes 


congeal 


kun-dzel 


kan-dz£l 


conjure 


kun-dzy6r 


kan-dzy6r 


conspire 


kun-splr 


kan-splr 


Decline 


du-klln 


dS-klln 



1. In words commencing with the fourth sound of a, it is very com- 
mon to use, in the pronunciation, the element u, especially if the first 
syllable is not accented. Ask any number of persons to read the last 
stanza of "Gray's Elegy" (before the epitaph) and you will find one- 
half of them, to read the phrase, "in sad array", as written thus; 
in sad-ur-a. 

2. This error, using u, instead of e, is not so common as the pre- 
ceding ; but, I have heard it made by several very intelligent persons. 
The use of th, instead of th, is very common. 

3. The com, and the con, in unaccented syllables, are very gene- 
rally pronounced, as in the second column of the table above, instead 

3 

of giving the o, the short sound of a. They are often pronounced km 
and kn, without any tonic sound. 



ARTICULATION IN SPEECH. 



45 



decree 




du-kre" 


d£-kre 


defence 




du-ffins 


de-fe*ns 


depart 




du-part 


dd-part 


devise 




du-vlse 


dd-vlse 


devour 




du-vour 


dd-vour 


dew 




d6 


dy6 


dulness 




1. dul-nus 


dul-nfis 


Eagerness 




6-gur-nus 


6-gur-n£s 


edifice 




fed-u-fls 


6d-6-fls 


effect 




u-f4kt 


4-fekt 


elegant 




Sl-6-gunt 


ftl-e-gant 


elevate 




61-u-vit 


£l-6-vat 


endurance 




£n-dy6-runs 


£n-dyd-rans 


enlighten 




2. Sn-llt-Sn 


en-Ut-n 


evidence 




£v-u-dung 


£v-£-d£ns 


exaggerate 




&ks-adi-ur-at 


figl-adl-d-rat 


exalt 




eks-alt 


£gz-alt 


extempore 




fiks-tfim-pAre 


fiks-t^m-pA-rfi 


extravagance 




£ks-trav-a-guns 


feks-trav-a-gans 


Fallacious 




ful-a-shus 


fal-a-shus 


ferment 


W. 


3. ffer-mSnt 


fur-me'nt 


fern 


W. 


fSrn 


furn 


firm 


w. 


fSrm 


furm 


fissure 


w. 


4. fish-shydr 


flsh-y6r 


fixture 


w. 


4. flks-tshydr 


flks-ty6r 


fluctuate 


w. 


4. fluk-tshyd-at 


fluk-tyd-at 


fragment 




frag-munt 


frag-m^nt 


fraudulent 




frad-y6-lunt 


frad-y6-l£nt 



1. In words ending in ess, like this and the next following word, the 

2 

e, is very frequently changed to u, in the pronunciation. 

2. In the last syllable of this, and similar words, such as brighten, 
frighten, &c, no tonic sound, should be heard in the pronunciation. 

3. Were a speaker to follow Walker in the pronunciation of er, in 
unaccented syllables, his speech would be remarked as singular ; and, 
if he followed him, in such words as firm, firmly, firmament and firm- 
ness, the chances are, that he would be laughed at, as an affected 
coxcomb. 

4. The doubling of the sh, in the first of these three words, and its 
introduction into the other two, by Walker, does not accord with the 
practice of the best speakers. 

6* 



46 



PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 



froward 




fri-urd 


frd-ard 


fruitless 




frdt-lus 


frdt-les 


fugitive 


W. 


fyd-dle-tlv 


fyo-dlet-lv 


future 


W. 


1. fy6-tshy6r 


fy6-ty6r 


Gallant 




gal-unt 


gal-ant 


gayety 




2. ga-e-ti 


ga-lt-e 


gentility 




dlen-til-e-te 


dzen-til-it-e 


glue 


w. 


3. gly6 


gl6 


gorgeous 




gar-did -tis 


gar-dzus 


Habitation 


w. 


hab-6-ta-shun 


hab-lt-a-shun 


habitual 


w. 


ha-bltsh-yA-al 


hab-lt-yd-al 


habitude 


w. 


hab-£-tydd 
heth-£n 


hab-it-y6d 


heathen 




heth-n 


herb 


w. 


erb 


urb 


herbage 


w. 


£r-bSdz 


ur-bedz 


herd 


w. 


herd 


hurd 


hereditary 


w. 


h£-red-£-ta-r£ 


he-red-it-a-re 


hesitate 


w. 


hes-6-tat 


hes-lt-at 


hermit 


w. 


hSr-mlt 


hur-mlt 


horrible 


w. 


har-£-bl 


har-ib-1 


horseman 




hars-mun 


hars-man 


hospitable 




has-plt-e-bl 


has-plt-e-bl 


humidity 


w. 


hyd-mid-e-te 


hyd-mid-it-e 


Ignorant 




Ig-nd-runt 


ig-nd-rant 


illuminate 


w. 


ll-y6-me-nat 


il-y6-mln-at 


immunity 


w. 


im-y6-n£-t£ 


lm-y6-nit-£ 


implacable 




Im-plak-u-bl 


Im-plak-a-bl 


imposture 


w. 


lm-pas-tshy6r 


lm-pas-ty6r 


impudent 




im-pyd-dunt 


Im-pyd-dent 


infatuate 


w. 


in-fatsh-y6-at 


in-fat-y&-at 


institution 


w. 


in-st£-ty&-shun 


ln-stit-y6-shun 



1. The introduction of the sh into the pronunciation of this word, 
as in fixture, and fluctuate, ought to be considered a barbarism. 

2. It is difficult to pronounce this word, as Walker has given it. 
The element a, ending as it does, in e, the immediate repetition of the 
same sound, causes a hiatus that is unpleasant. Those who attempt 
it, generally put in the element y; thus, ga-ye-te. The common pro- 
nunciation, by the best speakers, is as I have given it. 

3. In such words as glue, blew, flew, it is very difficult to sound the 
y immediately after the I. It should not be attempted. 






ARTICULATION IN SPEECH. 



47 



intrinsical W. 


In-tiln-se-kal 


In-trln-slk-al 


iron 


1-run 


lrn 


Jocose 


dzo-ki! 


dz6-kos 


Lacerate 


las-ur-at 


las-er-at 


landlady 


lan-la-de 


land-la-dd 


landscape 


lan-sklp 


land-skip 


language 


1. lan-gwadz 


lang-gwadz 


languish 


lan-gwlsh 


lang-gwlsh 



There is another subject, in connection with arti- 
culation, that is worthy of notice. To make our 
articulation perfect, we must not only pronounce 
every syllable well, but we must be careful not to 
join two or more words so closely together, as to 
make them sound, like separate syllables of a single 
word. This is not unfrequently done, as will be 
apparent, if you request several persons, in succes- 



1. The student will observe, that, in those cases in which the con- 
sonants are doubled, in the spelling, only one is given in the pronuncia- 
tion. This is because only one is ever heard, in the pronunciation of 
the word. We cannot, in fact, sound any element twice, in immediate 
succession, without making such a pause, as to convert the single word 
into two words. Take, as an example, the word affair. We may either 
pronounce it a-far, or af-ar; but, if we attempt to sound the /twice, 
we shall pause between the syllables long enough to take the organs 
of speech out of the position for forming that element, and putting 
them into that position again. The same difficulty will occur, in the 
attempt to double any other elementary sound. Indeed, we some- 
times find it difficult, or rather, impossible, in some cases, to termi- 
nate a word, with a particular element, and begin the next word with 
the same, without a pause that breaks the current of the voice, 
unpleasantly. Take the sentence, "You are a sad dog", and observe 
the effect of sounding the d, in both words. At sight, it might appear, 
that I have deviated from this rule, in the pronunciation of the last 
two words ; but it is not so. The ng, represents a single elementary 
sound, which is entirely different from that, represented by the letter 
a, with which the second syllables commence. 



48 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

sion, to read the following line from Dimond's 
" Sailor Boy's Dream." 

"And the cot of his forefathers, blesses his eyes." 

If their attention is not previously called to the 
subject of distinct articulation, you will be almost 
certain to perceive that some of them pronounce the 
three words, cot of his, as a single word of three 
syllables, with the accent upon the first ; and, per- 
haps, that some of them will not only do this, but 
will change the last two, so as to make the word, 
cotuviz. Many other examples of such barbarous 
articulation might be selected ; but, this one, ought 
to be sufficient, to put the student upon his guard. 

There is another careless mode of articulation, 
which we may sometimes notice, in which part of a 
word is joined with another, that precedes it, leaving 
the remainder as a separate word. We may take a 
line from Othello, to illustrate this. 

"But still the house affairs would draw her thence." 

You will find some, who read this line, as if written 
thus; 

"But still the housuf airs, would draw her thence." 

Again, in the following line from Byron, we may 
observe such jumbling of sounds, by some, who are 
considered tolerable readers: viz., "And, when 
music arose, &c." They pronounce it as if written 
"And, when musiker". 

In the preceding pages, we have a sample of some 
of the principal faults in articulation ; and, they should 
be sufficient, to induce the student of Elocution, to 
keep a strict watch upon his own habits ; since, as 



MELODY OF SPEECH. 49 

has been already stated, there can be no really good 
reading and speaking, by persons whose articulation 
is defective. There is one other deformity in utter- 
ance, which we, at times, observe in persons, when 
reading or speaking upon solemn, or plaintive sub- 
jects. In such cases, we all feel the propriety, of 
dwelling long upon the syllables, or giving them 
long quantity. But, there are many of them, that 
will not bear extended quantity, without falling into 
a drawl, or, into the intonation of song. The drawl 
is occasioned by dwelling too long upon the begin- 
ning of the syllable, without either rising or falling, 
in pitch ; and the intonation of song, is the result 
of continuing the sound, after the rise or fall has 
ceased. Both of these, are great deformities in 
speech, and may properly be classed, as defects of 
articulation. It is proper to say, that the intonation 
of song, is not confined to those syllables that are 
not susceptible of much extension, in quantity. We 
often hear it upon the longest syllables, when the 
speaker is not careful to continue the rise or fall in 
pitch, until the sound ceases. 



SECTION VHI. 

OF THE MELODY OF SPEECH. 

To the musician, it may seem somewhat incon- 
gruous, to talk about melody, in speech. He is apt 
to consider that term, as appropriated, exclusively, 
to his own science, or his own art. But, if we take 
the word, in its ordinary acceptation, it is quite as 



s 



50 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION* 

appropriate in Elocution, as in Music. Worcester 
says, Melody, is sweetness of sound; and Webster de- 
fines it, a succession of sounds so regulated and modu- 
lated as to please the ear. If we take the word in 
either of these meanings, without any disparagement 
of the sweetest sounds ever heard from the most 
skilful singer, or the most exquisite performer upon 
the violin, we may safely say that they are fully 
equalled, in the finest intonation of the voice, in 
speech. If, instead of comparing speech and music, 
in respect to mere sweetness of sound, we examine 
them as to their power of conveying thought, or ex- 
citing passionate emotions in the hearer, the former, 
stands far higher, than the latter. But the sense in 
which the Elocutionist uses the term, Melody of 
Speech, has reference only to the amount of the con- 
crete rise or fall, upon the successive syllables in dis- 
course, and the pitch upon which the respective 
syllables should be commenced; and, attention to 
something more than this, is necessary, in order to 
produce the effects, alluded to, in the last sentence. 
It has, already, been stated, that upon every syl- 
lable we pronounce in speech, we make a concrete 
rise or fall, through some interval of the musical 
scale. In unimpassioned narrative, or description, 
and in plain didactic or argumentative discourse, the 
interval through which each syllable must rise or 
fall, is that of a tone, except where an emphatic 
word occurs, or when a question is asked. In 
either of these cases, the intervals will be greater 
than tones, as we shall see, when we come to speak 
of emphasis and interrogation. But, to do justice 
to such unimpassioned discourse, we must attend to 



MELODY OF SPEECH. 51 

the discrete intervals, between the successive syl- 
lables. To commence all the syllables upon the 
same pitch, would make speech so monotonous, as 
to be absolutely repulsive to the hearer; and yet, we 
might make the intervals between those syllables, 
of such extent, as to render the effect but little less 
repulsive. In such reading or speaking, as we have 
spoken of above, the discrete intervals, as well as 
the concrete, must be tones only, except where an 
emphatic word occurs ; in which case, the discrete 
interval, may sometimes, be a third. Such a melody, 
in which the variations in pitch are made by con- 
crete and discrete intervals of a single tone, is 
called the Diatonic Melody of speech. It is repre- 
sented on the following staff. The first syllable is 
placed upon the fifth note of the scale ; the second, 
a tone lower; the third, a tone higher than the 
second; the fourth, another tone higher; the fifth, 
a tone lower than the fourth; and the sixth, a tone 
lower than the fifth ; and, it has the falling concrete 
of a tone, which gives a complete close to the 
sentence. 



Sweet 


is 


the 


breath 


of 


morn. 




ef 




tf 


«T 


fif 




w 


* 


w 




w 


^ 





It is not to be understood that the above notation, 
is the only allowable succession of pitches, that the 
sentence will admit. We may place the first and 
second syllables upon the same line of pitch ; the 
third a tone lower ; the fourth, up a tone, and the 
fifth and sixth, so as to bear the same relation to the 



52 



PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 



fourth, that they now do, upon the staff. The suc- 
cessions of pitch, for the commencement of the syl- 
lables, will depend upon the sentiment intended to 
be expressed ; especially, with respect to its gaiety 
or gravity; as we shall see hereafter. One thing 
may be, here, observed; viz., that it is rarely, if 
ever, allowable to have more than two successive 
ascents in radical pitch ; as, upon the two syllables 
the, and breath ; or, more than two successive descents, 
as upon the syllables of, and morn. For the conve- 
nience of future reference, we may apply names to 
some of these successions, as exhibited upon the 
two staffs below. 



That quar - ter most the skil - ful Greeks an 



noy. 



d d & 9L ^ & & 1 — &- 



Monotone. Falling Ditone. Rising Tritone. Rising Ditone. 

Where yon wild fig trees join the walls of Troy. 



^~&- 



^ ^ yl 



2 4- 



~sL 



K 



Falling Tritone. 



Alternation. 



Triad of the, Cadence. 



"When two or more successive syllables, commence 
upon the same line of radical pitch, the succession is 
called, the phrase of the Monotone. 

When the radical pitch of a syllable is a tone 
above that of a preceding syllable, the phrase is 
termed the Rising Ditone. 

When the radical pitch of a syllable, is a tone 
below that of a preceding syllable, the phrase is the 
Falling Ditone. 



MELODY OF SPEECH. 53 

When the radical pitch of three syllables, suc- 
cessively, ascends a tone, the phrase is the Rising 
Trilonc. 

When the radicals of three syllables, successively 
descend a tone, the phrase is the Falling Trilonc. 

When we have a train of several syllables, alter- 
nately a tone above, and a tone below, each other, 
as the syllables Jig, trees, join and the, on the second 
staff above, the succession is called the Alternate 
Phrase, or Alternation. 

When three syllables, successively descend a tone 
in radical pitch, at the end of a sentence, and with a 
downward concrete of a tone, upon the last, the 
phrase is called, the Triad of the Cadence. In this 
phrase, we frequently have the falling concrete of a 
tone upon each of the three syllables, as we shall 
see, when treating more particularly of the cadence. 

By an examination of the preceding notation, it 
will be perceived that, when the rising ditone or 
tritone is made, the radical of the succeeding syl- 
lable is placed at the extreme of the vanish of the 
preceding syllable ; but, when the falling ditone or 
tritone is employed, the radical of the succeeding 
syllable is placed two tones, or a third, below the 
vanish of the preceding. In consequence of this, 
the falling ditone or tritone, makes a much more 
distinct impression, upon the ear, than the rising 
ditone or tritone. But, when we use the triad of the 
cadence, with the falling concrete upon each of the 
three syllables, composing it, as we sometimes do, 
then, the radical of the succeeding syllable is on the 
same pitch as the vanish of the preceding, and the 
discrete interval between the radicals of these syl- 



54 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

lables, makes less impression, than when the con- 
cretes are rising. 

In the notation upon the preceding staffs, the ex- 
tent or compass of pitch used, calculated from the 
vanishes of the highest syllables, Greeks and noy, to 
the radicals of the lowest, is but four tones, and yet, 
it affords a pleasing variety. We are not, however, 
confined to so limited a range in pitch. Dr. Eush 
has given us a notation of six lines from Othello, in 
which the compass, extends through nine tones, (the 
difference in radical pitch between no two successive 
syllables being more than a tone) which is quite 
consistent with propriety, provided the reader's 
voice is sufficiently cultivated to execute it. This is 
not the case with ordinary readers; although the 
power might, readily, be acquired by persons in 
general, by well directed efforts. 

That intonation which is heard upon the last three 
syllables of the couplet from Pope, when read ac- 
cording to the notation of the staff, is called the 
Triad of the Cadence, or simply the Cadence. It is 
a mode of closing a sentence, in speech, that con- 
veys the impression to the hearer, that a particular 
thought or idea is entirely delivered. It may be 
followed by other thoughts or ideas, more or less 
nearly related to it, but the cadence signifies that 
the first is completed. It is followed by a longer 
pause, than is allowable at any point within the 
body of the sentence, and the mind, has more time, 
to dwell up<3n the manner of its execution. For 
this reason, perhaps, faults in making cadences, 
more frequently attract our attention, than even 
worse errors, in any other part of the sentence. 



MELODY OF SPEECH. 55 

Hence, the necessity of knowing, both theoretically 
and practically, how to make them, in a proper 
manner. The student should give particular atten- 
tion, to what follows, upon this important subject. 

It will be observed, by reference to the staff, that 
the falling interval between the radical of the first 
syllable of the triad, (walls) and the vanish of the 
third (Troy), is three tones, according to that nota- 
tion. Now, it may be observed, that, although the 
cadence may be executed in several other ways, the 
hearer never receives the impression of a complete 
close, in the diatonic melody, from any less descent 
in pitch, than "this. We will now point out the dif- 
ferent methods, by which, this descent in pitch, may 
be made, without offense to good taste. 

In the first form of the cadence, the radical of the 
penultimate syllable, is placed one tone below that 
of the antepenultimate, and the concrete is a rising 
tone. The radical of the final syllable, is placed one 
tone below that of the penultimate, and the concrete 
is a falling tone. 

"The spir - it can - not al - ways sleep in dust". 



* * * « * * * ^ 



This form of the cadence, is particularly appro- 
priate to sentences, the last three words of which, 
are monosyllables, as in the sentence above, and 
in those quoted over the staffs, on pages 51, 
and 52. 

In the second form of the cadence, the discrete 
intervals are the same, as in the first form, but, each 



56 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

of the last three syllables, has the falling concrete 
of a tone, as exhibited on the staff below. 



"Mean 


- time 


I'll 


keep 


you 


com 


- pa 


- ny». 




md 


^ 


tf 


ef 


¥ 


A 






■ ■ W 


9 




Wt 




^ 


<* 




« 



This second form of the cadence, is well adapted 
to sentences ending in a polysyllable, with the accent 
on the antepenult ; as in company, scenery, &c. 

In the third form, the intervals between the radi- 
cals of the last three syllables, are the same as in the 
first and second forms, but the concrete upon the 
antepenult is rising, and, falling, upon the remain- 
ing two. 

"Con - gress was then in ses - sion". 



The third form is particularly appropriate to sen- 
tences, the penults of which are accented syllables ; 
as in session, devotion, &c. 

The fourth form differs from the third, in placing 
the penult upon the same pitch as the preceding 
syllable, and giving it the falling concrete of a third, 
instead of a single tone. 



"Me-thought I heard 


Ho 


- ra ■ 


■ tio 


say 


to- 


mor 


■ row". 






a/ 


d 




ef 






W' d * tf 


W 


w 


w 


& 




* 









As in the third form, the fourth, is adapted to sen- 
tences, in which the penult is accented ; but, in this 
we make the penult slightly emphatic. 

In the fifth form of the cadence, the radical of the 






MELODY OF SPEECH. T>7 

final syllabic, is placed a tone lower than that of a 
penult, and the syllable has the falling concrete 
of a third. 

"De- scent and fall, to us, is ad - verse". 



* ****** 



The fifth form is particularly appropriate to sen- 
tences, the final syllables of which, are emphatic. 
It may here be observed that when emphasis is pro- 
perly given to a word of more than one syllable, it 
always falls upon that which is accented. The word 
adverse, in the above quotation from Milton, is gene- 
rally accented on the first syllable, but the measure 
of the poetry, in this instance, requires the accent 
upon the second. 

In the sixth form of the cadence, the radical of the 
final syllable, is placed upon the same pitch as that 
of the penult, and a falling concrete of a fifth, is 
given to that syllable, making a total descent of 
three tones and a semitone. This makes a strong 
and perfect close to the sentence. 



"My 


sen - 


tence 


is 


for 


o - 


pen 


war". 




J 


* 


* 


mi 


-/ 


* 


*^ 




9 - ■ 


■ - \ 



This form is only appropriate when we wish to 
give a strong emphasis to the final syllable, and, at 
the same time, to make a perfect close to the sen- 
tence. If we wish the close to be less perfect, we 
should place the radical of the final syllable, a tone 
higher than that of the penult, and make the same 
concrete descent. 

7* 



58 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

There is yet another form, in which the cadence 
is sometimes made. It is effected "by placing the 
final syllable two tones, or a third, below the penult, 
and giving it the falling concrete of a tone. 

"Sweet is the breath of morn." 



* * * < < A 



This form of the cadence is only given, for the 
purpose of guarding the student against it, as a 
glaring fault in speech. And yet it is by no means 
uncommon. 

It has been said that, in the diatonic melody, the 
movements in which, we have, thus far, been con- 
sidering, in this section, the intervals, both concrete 
and discrete, are those of single tones only ; except 
when we deviate from this rule, for the purpose of 
giving emphatic distinction to a syllable. But, in 
connection with the different forms of the cadence, 
we may refer to an exception, in regard to the dis- 
crete movement, which is made, by good speakers, 
with excellent effect. Any one of the ordinary forms 
of cadence, will make a complete and satisfactory 
close to a sentence ; but, it is sometimes desirable, 
when we arrive at the termination of a paragraph, 
and are about to change the subject, to mark the 
last cadence of that paragraph, especially. This 
may be done, it is true, by so managing the melody, 
as to make the last cadence of the paragraph, upon 
a lower pitch than any of the preceding. But, if, 
in addition to this low pitch, we make the discrete 
interval of a third, upon a syllable a little in advance 
of the cadence ? the close of the paragraph, or of the 



MELODY OP SPEECn. 59 

discourse, will be as perfect, as it is possible to make 
it. This mode of making the cadence, may be called 
the Prepared Cadence. The manner of effecting it is 
indicated on the staff below. 



«Ri - der 


and horse, friend, foe, 


in 


one 


red 


bu • 


ri 


al 


blent" 




J 


J 4 


cj 


j/ 


* 


4 


4 






* 


d * ^ 












* 




' • T 



The effect of this prepared cadence, in the close 
of solemn or mournful paragraphs, especially, is so 
excellent, that every student of Elocution, should 
labor earnestly to acquire the power of making it 
with facility, whenever his judgment tells him it is 
required. The downward radical interval of a third 
between the syllable friend and foe, in the above line, 
produces this effect upon the hearer. He infers at 
once, when he hears it, that nothing more is to be 
said upon the subject, to which he has been listening. 

Before leaving the subject of cadence, a few general 
observations respecting it, may not be amiss. There 
are few faults, in speaking, that make a stronger 
impression upon .hearers, than monotony, or sameness 
of sound. To satisfy the ear, an agreeable variety 
is required ; and as the management of the voice in 
making the cadences, attracts more attention, than 
in the body of the sentence, any monotony there, 
will be more conspicuous and more offensive, thau 
in other parts of discourse. To illustrate our mean- 
ing, let us suppose a person reading a chapter in the 
Scriptures, where the sentences are, generally, short, 
and cadences frequently occur. He may make each 
individual cadence perfectly, according to some one 
of the six forms just described ; and his melody, in 



60 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

the body of the sentences, respectively, may be un- 
exceptionable ; and yet, his reading be intolerably 
tiresome, in consequence of all the cadences being 
made according to the same form, and upon pre- 
cisely the same pitch. This is not an uncommon 
fault. If, instead of making each cadence well, he 
gives us such a succession of false or imperfect ones, 
nothing but the fear of wounding the feelings of the 
reader, could induce us to listen to such elocution. 
Such being the fact, let every student of Elocution, 
study well the different forms of the cadence, and 
acquire the power of forming any one of them, with 
ease, when occasion may require. Let him also be 
attentive to the pitch, upon which he makes his 
cadences, so that no two in direct succession, shall 
be upon the same pitch. 

The diatonic melody, to which our attention has 
been, thus far, confined, is limited, except when 
giving emphasis, to concrete and discrete intervals 
of a tone. But, in the description of the scale, it was 
stated that the interval between the third and fourth 
notes, as well as that between the seventh and eighth 
notes, was a semitone ; or only half that of a tone. 
Bat, we may so divide the scale that it shall consist 
of twelve semitonic intervals, instead of five tones 
and two semitones, as on page 5. These semitonic 
intervals may be either concrete or discrete. The 
scale thus composed of semitonic intervals, is called 
the Chromatic Scale ; and the melody composed of 
semitonic concrete and discrete intervals, is called 
the Chromatic Melody. For certain purposes of ex- 
pression in speech, this chromatic melody is fre- 
quently required ; and, therefore, it is expedient that 






MELODY OF SPEECH. 61 

we should consider the mode of giving the notation 
of sentences in it. It has heen said that, in the 
diatonic staff, each line, and each space between the 
lines, represents the interval of a tone. Now, if we, 
instead of this, consider" each line, and each inter- 
mediate space, as representing a semitone, we shall 
have a chromatic staff, composed of nine semitones, 
including the upper line ; and, upon it, we can notate 
a line, exactly as in the diatonic melody, each con- 
crete and each discrete interval being a semitone ; 
as follows : 

"Oh my sad soul long a - ban - don'd by plea -sure". 



' < * < w ' ., < ' < -+ 



I am aware that Dr. Rush, has, perhaps rather 
doubtfully, expressed the opinion, that, in the chro- 
matic melody, the falling discrete intervals, are whole 
tones, instead of semitones. I have watched these 
intervals very closely, both in my own reading and 
in that of others, and I find myself unable to coin- 
cide with him in opinion. It seems to'ine that all 
the intervals, in this melody, unless where an em- 
phatic syllable occurs, are semitones. Even in 
making the cadence, according to the first form, on 
page 5b, the falling discrete, between the antepenult 
and the penult, as well as that between the penult 
and final syllable, is only a semitone, in the ordinary 
use of the chromatic melody. If we make those 
discretes whole tones, the cadence produces, upon 
the hearer, the same kind of impression, as that of 
the prepared cadence, in the diatonic melody. Both 
these notations upon the chromatic scale are given 



62 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

below. The same line of poetry is used in both, for 
the purpose of enabling the student, with more cer- 
tainty, to compare the effects of these cadences. 

"But, rap - ture and beau - ty, they can - not re - cal". 



4— 4 * ^ ff— ^ 4—4- 



d - *> * * ~ * ~ - # ^ 



"But, rap 


- ture and 


beau 


- ty, 


they 


can 


- not 


re - 


call". 




A 


ti 




U 




«r 


^ 






4 • 


• «r 


4 


w 


* 






*f 






















•V 



In the above notations of the chromatic melody, 
the concretes, both rising and falling, are exhibited 
as simple slides. But, generally, when we use this 
melody, the sentiment is such, as to make slow time 
and long quantity appropriate ; and, in such cases, 
we should use the wave of the semitone, upon all the 
long syllables. The two lines quoted above, from 
the "Exile of Erin," are of this description; and 
therefore, to make the notations exact, the syllables, 
oh, soul, long, pleas, and lire, in the first line, and ture, 
beau, they, and cal, in the second, should be given as 
direct waves of the semitone. 

I may here state that, in the diatonic melody, where 
slow time and long quantity are required, the long 
syllables, in the notation, should be exhibited as 
direct waves of the second. 

The student who wishes to have a full under- 
standing of what either himself, or his instructor, is 
doing, will, perhaps, ask how the falling concretes, 
are executed upon such syllables as take the form of 
the wave of the semitone, or of the second ; because, 
he has been informed that the rise and fall, upon 



MELODY OF SPEECH. 

those waves, are equal, and do not give the impres- 
sion of such downward concretes as are required at 
the cadence. We might tell him that many readers, 
who use these waves upon the long syllables in the 
body of the sentence, give only the simple falling 
concrete of such syllables, in making the cadence. 
But, to do him justice, we must also tell him that 
this change, when making a cadence, from the wave 
to the simple concrete, is a decided defect in speech, 
and should be carefully avoided. The true way of 
giving the impression of the falling concrete, in 
these cases, is to use the unequal direct wave, with 
the second constituent greater than the first. In 
making the cadence upon the above line, from the 
"Exile of Erin," we should rise a semitone upon the 
final syllable, cat, and fall through a tone, or, at most, 
through a minor third, and the impression of the 
cadence will be complete. If the same line were 
read, in the diatonic melody, with the wave of the 
second, upon the long syllables, we should rise, a 
tone, and fall, a third, upon the final syllable, in order 
to make the cadence properly. When we are using 
the wave of the second, in the diatonic melody, and 
wish to make the cadence in either the fifth or sixth 
form, so as to give emphasis to the final syllable, we 
must then use an unequal wave, with the second 
constituent, running down through a fifth, instead 
of a third; as in the following line from Milton : viz, 

"And, to en - rage thee more, thy king and lord". 



a T^ , ,^ ¥ -jgl-gC^ 



zizi^C 



In reading the above sentence, as used by Milton, 



64 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

an emphasis is necessary upon the syllable, thy, as 
well as upon lord. But the notation of the former 
is omitted, as the cadence is all that we are now 
considering. 

In treating of the melody of speech, Dr. Rush 
has confined himself to the diatonic, and chromatic 
melodies, in which the intervals, both concrete and 
discrete, are either tones or semitones. But, unless 
I mistake, in glowing description, or in exalted 
praise, we, occasionally, require a melody, composed 
of intervals, wider than tones, both concrete and 
discrete. There are numerous sentences in the 
"Address to the Deity" by Derzhavin, as translated 
by Dr. Bowring, which I cannot read, to my own 
satisfaction, without using the equal direct wave of 
the third, upon all the long syllables, and discrete 
intervals, of the same extent, between the radicals 
of the successive syllables. The following sentence 
is one, which, in my opinion, requires such a melody, 
to do full justice to the sentiment. 

"And, as the spangles, in the sunny rays, 
Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry 
Of Heaven's bright army, glitters in Thy praise." 

The notation of the last line, is given on the staff 
below, in the melody indicated above, which may be 
called the Tritonic Melody. 

"Of Heav - en's bright ar - my, glit - ters in Thy praise." 



V^-, — 4—* 



4~\- * - - 1~s 



^ *~\ 



"We have seen that, in making cadences in the 
diatonic melody, the discrete descents, are through 
the intervals of tones; and that, in the chromatic 



MELODY OF SPEECH. 68 

melody, the discrete descents, are through intervals 
of semitones. In the above notation, in the Tri- 
tonic Melody, I have exhibited these discrete de- 
scents through intervals of a third; that is, the radi- 
cals, of the penult thy, is placed a third lower than, in, 
and that of the final syllable, praise, a third lower 
than, thy. The unequal wave upon the final sylla- 
ble, rises, through a third, and falls, through a fifth. 
Before leaving this subject, of the melody of 
speech, let us take a short review of what has been 
said. And as preliminary to such review, let it be 
understood, that we are not laying down the princi- 
ples of an artificial style of elocution, but of one, 
which fully accords with the movements of the 
voice, as prompted by nature, when nature has not 
been perverted, by the example, and the influence of 
incorrect habits, which are so prevalent both in read- 
ing and speaking; and, more particularly, in reading. 
The habit of reading, with an entirely different in- 
tonation from that, which the reader would employ 
in delivering the same sentiments, as his own, and 
in precisely the same language, in extemporaneous 
speech, is almost universal. In fact, many public 
speakers, when reading their own written discourses, 
adopt a monotonous intonation, altogether at vari- 
ance with their manner in extemporaneous speech. 
Even Archbishop Whately, recognizes this differ- 
ence between reading and speaking, as not only 
common, to a certain extent, but unavoidable. And 
yet, with great inconsistency, in giving to the stu- 
dent, directions how to acquire the habit of read- 
ing naturally, as he calls it, he tells him he must 
enter, fully, into the spirit of the author. Of what 



66 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

advantage would it be to him, to enter into the 
spirit of the author, if, when he has succeeded in 
that somewhat difficult task, he is still to deliver his 
sentiments, with an intonation entirely at variance 
with those sentiments ? Let us try the Archbishop's 
doctrine upon a passage from Shakspeare. The 
student is reading the part of Coriolanus, and near 
the end of it, he meets with the following passage : — 

"0 that I had him, 
With six Aufidiuses, and more, his tribe, 
To use my lawful sword." 

He is to enter into the spirit of the author ; and, if 
he does so, he will arrive at the utmost degree of 
angry impatience ; for that is what Shakspeare in- 
tends to indicate as the condition of Coriolanus, 
produced by the charges and taunts of Aufidius. 
Well, the student has wrought himself up to that 
condition or spirit. "What is he then to do ? Why, 
he is to read the lines, in some kind of intonation, 
which the Archbishop, calls natural, but, which is to 
be in marked contrast with that, which the spirit of 
angry impatience would dictate. If this is to be 
the only result of the effort to enter into the spirit 
of the author, it would seem that such effort, had 
been greatly misapplied. 

The question arises then, whether there should 
be any difference, in intonation, between reading 
any passage, and delivering the same sentiments, 
and in the same words, extemporaneously. If the 
question were put to me, I should answer it, unhesi- 
tatingly, in the negative. The only difference, for 
example, between reading the passage, quoted above, 
in the private parlor, and delivering it upon the stage, 



MELODY OF SPEECH. 1)7 

ought to be, in the mere loudness of the voice. Every 
thing else, ought to be executed, in the same man- 
ner, in both cases. (See note.) If this be true, what 
becomes of the Archbishop's natural manner of 
reading, which he seems to estimate so highly ? 

Let us now recur to the melody of speech. We 
have described three different kinds of melody : viz. 
the Diatonic, the Semitonic, and the Tritonic. In the 
first, the intervals, both concrete and discrete, are 
tones, except when a word is made emphatic. In the 
second, with the same exception, the intervals are all 
semitones. ' In the third, the intervals, both concrete 
and discrete, are thirds. The concretes in each of 
these melodies, may be either simple slides, rising or 
falling, or they may take the form of equal direct 
waves, of the respective intervals, as circumstances 
require. In the diatonic melody, we have noticed 
the different phrases, such as the monotone, the rising 
and falling ditones, &c. It is of much importance 
to the pupil to understand, clearly, what each of 
these terms means, as well as to acquire the power 
of executing any one of these movements, at will ; 
because, much of the expression of speech, depends 
upon them. He, who understands them well, and 
acquires the habit of close attention, will perceive 
that the principal difference between the reading and 
the speaking of any person (when such difference 
exists), is that in the reading, the phrase of the mono- 
note, is much used, where, in the speaking, the alter- 
nate phrase prevails. 

Note. — Even Dr. Whately, who insists so strongly that there must 
be a difference between reading and speaking, admits that the nearer 
the former, approaches to the latter, the more perfect it is. 



68 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

SECTION IX. 

OF QUALITY OR KINDS OF VOICE. 

There are three distinct kinds or qualities of 
voice, which we may here enumerate; viz, the 
Whisper, the Natural Voice, and the Falsetie or Fal- 
setto. To these, Dr. Rush, has added a fourth, which 
he calls the Orotund. "We shall speak of them, in the 
order in which they are named. 

In speaking of the Atonic sounds, it was said that 
they consist of aspiration alone ; without any audible 
vibrations of the larynx or chords of the glottis. 
They are simply the sounds made by somewhat 
forcible breathing, modified by the position of the 
organs of the mouth ; such as the tongue, the palate, 
the teeth, and the lips, as the breath passes out. It 
may now be said that although, in ordinary speech, 
the Tonic and Subtonic sounds are originated in 
distinct vibrations at the top of the larynx, yet, we 
may utter the most of them, by placing the organs 
in the proper position, and then expelling the breath, 
as we do in forming the Atonies. When the ele- 
ments, thus formed, are arranged in syllables and 
words, they constitute that kind of voice, called the 
Whisper. The whispering voice, is not of much im- 
portance to the elocutionist, as it is confined, almost 
entirely, to the purpose of conveying information to 
one or two persons, in a company, to the exclusion 
of the rest. It is a kind of voice, however, which 
may be so cultivated, as to be very clearly under- 
stood, by a tolerably large audience. 

It is worthy of observation, that there are a few 



QUALITY OR KINDS OF VOICE. 69 

of the subtonic elements, which cannot be uttered 
in the whisper, without great difficulty. Of this 
class are g, v, z, and z. Almost any one in trying to 
whisper the word give, will convert it into kive; vile, 
he will convert \i\to file; zone into sone ; and the 
phrase azure sky, he will convert into a sure sky. The 
reason of this is, that the position of the organs of 
speech, in forming g and k, are almost exactly iden- 
tical ; so for v and/, z and s, z and sh; the difference 
being, that the subtonic requires vibration at the top 
of the larynx, and, the corresponding atonic, is aspi- 
ration alone. It is almost as difficult to keep from 
converting d into t, and den into ten. 

The Natural Voice, is that which people, in general, 
use in their ordinary discourse, in greater or less de- 
grees of purity. In this voice, every syllable requires 
a vibration of the chords of the glottis, and is, there- 
fore, said to have vocality. It is susceptible of great 
variety in force and pitch, if properly cultivated; 
whereas, the whisper, is very deficient in these respects, 
even when the utmost efforts are made, by those who 
have had most practice in it. In the natural voice 
too, we may express all the varieties of emotion ; 
while, in the whisper, perhaps, the only one of those 
emotions, that can be given in perfection, is fear. 

But, to make the natural voice capable of con- 
veying our thoughts and emotions, in a perfect 
manner, it must have careful cultivation. It is often 
so harsh, as to make a disagreeable impression upon 
the ear ; even when the speaker, is under the influence 
of his most cheerful, or most pleasant, emotions. 
This is a defect, which it requires both time and 
patient effort, to remove ; but these efforts, especially 



70 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

when directed by a judicious instructor, will always 
result in success. Many natural voices, too, are 
exceedingly deficient in force, and require careful 
practice, in order to strengthen them, without in- 
jurious effects upon the student. But, as has been 
heretofore said, such practice will soon result in 
great improvement. Perhaps, the most common 
defect, in the uncultivated natural voice, is a want 
of compass, or, in other words, a want of power to 
vary the pitch. In order to give expression to cer- 
tain emotions, a low pitch of the voice, is required ; 
and, for others, a pitch that is comparatively high. 
No person who wishes to be a good elocutionist, 
should rest satisfied, until his compass, extends to, 
at least an octave ; because, to do justice to the 
different sentiments, he may be called upon to de- 
liver, he will find that a range equal to the octave, 
is needed. Many natural voices, before cultivation, 
have not half this compass ; and are, therefore, in- 
capable of doing justice to the variety of sentiments, 
the reader or speaker may be required to express. 
To correct this defect, considerable practice is re- 
quired. If the voice of the student is, naturally, 
low in pitch, or, we might rather say, habitually, too 
low, his efforts should be directed to raising it, by 
making the lowest sound he can give, with fulness, 
the bass note of his scale, using one of the long 
tonic elements, for this note, another of them for 
the second, and others for the third, fourth, fifth, 
sixth, seventh, and octave. His first attempts, may 
not enable him to go higher than the fifth, or, even 
the fourth, note, but, industry and perseverance, will 
soon carry him up to the octave, or even, beyond it. 



QUALITY OR KINDS OF VOICE. 71 

If the habitual pitch of the voice is too high, let him 
commence with one of the long tonics, as the octave 
of his scale, and direct his efforts to sounding the 
notes, in descending order, until he can sound the 
bass, with full volume of voice. When the habitual 
pitch of the voice is a medium one, and yet, the 
compass too limited, the student must endeavor to 
extend that compass, both down and up. 

In addition to this practice, with direct reference 
to the notes of the scale, let him select a short sen- 
tence, appropriate to the pitch he wishes to acquire, 
and practise upon it repeatedly. If, for example, he 
wishes to lower the pitch of his voice, let him select, 
from the drama, some sentence for the expression 
of the most concentrated hatred ; such as, " Let gall, 
worse than gall, be the daintiest food," &c, and, at 
every successive effort, strive to give as low a pitch 
as possible, and with as much loudness as he can 
command. If his object be to raise the pitch of his 
voice, let him select a facetious sentence, such as the 
first two lines of Walcot's "Razor Seller", which 
requires quite a high pitch to do it justice; 

"A fellow, in a market town, • 

Most musical, cried razors, up and down." 

Every person, in running up the notes of the 
musical scale, or, of successive scales, it may be, in 
the natural voice, will, at length, arrive at a point, 
at which the voice will break, into a kind of shrill 
screech, altogether different in quality, from the 
sounds below that point. After having broken into 
this shrill sound, he may utter still higher notes; 
but, they will all partake of the same shrillness. 
This shrill voice, is called the Falsette or Falsetto. 



72 PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 

It is peculiarly disagreeable to the ear; not on 
account of its highness of pitch alone ; but, from its 
peculiar squeaking character, reminding the hearer 
of the scream of terror or pain, in childhood. It is 
susceptible of considerable variety in pitch, and, it 
may, by effort, be sounded much lower in the scale, 
than the point, where the voice naturally breaks, in 
ascending. Into ordinary speech, this kind of voice 
should never enter ; and yet, we occasionally meet, 
even with men, who never use any other. If nature 
had so formed the organs of speech, in any person, 
and, more especially, in a strong muscular man, that 
he could only speak in the falsette, he would, justly, 
be an object for commiseration. But, as any one may 
correct this disagreeable habit, we ought rather to 
wish him, under the severe discipline of the teacher. 
Whether the Orotund voice, really differs, in kind, 
from the others we have described, as the Whisper, 
the Natural Voice, and the Falsetto, differ from each 
other, or whether it is only an improved quality of the 
Natural Voice, it is not, perhaps, material for us to 
inquire. Some persons have it, without effort ; and, 
probably, all may acquire it, by sufficiently energetic 
efforts to lower the pitch, and, at the same time, to 
increase the force, of the natural voice. Many actors 
acquire it, by their loud vociferations upon the stage ; 
and yet, fail to use it to much purpose, when the 
acquisition has been made. When properly applied, 
however, it is of great importance to the elocutionist, 
in enabling him to give greater effect to many kinds 
of expression. It is particularly applicable to the 
expression of all dignified and deliberate emotions 
of the mind. It is scarcely possible, so to describe 



TREMOR OF THE VOICE. 73 

it, in writing, as to be at all certain of leaving a 
correct impression upon the mind of the reader; 
although the difference between it, and the ordinary 
natural voice, is at once perceived, by him who listens 
to them, in succession. Dr. Rush has said, that he 
once noticed a fine example of the sound of the 
Orotund voice, in the case of a boy, inside of a large 
copper alembic or still, who was amusing himself, 
with singing and speaking aloud. The resonance 
of the metal, in such a case, gives a fulness and clear- 
ness to the sounds, which are particularly grateful 
to the ear. 



SECTION X. 

OF THE TREMOR OF THE VOICE. 

In section third, page 13, it was stated, that each 
impulse of the voice, with its necessary concrete rise 
or fall, constitutes a syllable.^ There is, however, an 
exception to this, which we are now about to notice, 
constituting that modification of the voice, called the 
Tremor; and, which is analogous to what is known 
as the Shake, in music. Every reader, is familiar with 
the vibration in the throat, called gurgling. In com- 
mon, it is caused by taking some liquid into the 
back part of the mouth, in contact with the epiglottis, 
or lid of the glottis, and then forcing the air from 
the lungs, through that liquid, in a rapid succession 
of mere momentary jets. Bat, similar momentary 
jets of sound, may be made, without taking liquid 
into the mouth, and, in that case, the sounds are 
clearer, than when the air rushes through the liquid. 



74 PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 

Each of these jets, either rises or falls, through some 
concrete interval of the scale ; and, the effect upon 
the ear, will depend upon the extent of the interval, 
through which each of the jets passes ; as we shall 
presently see. Each of the tonic and subtonic ele- 
ments, in its uncombined state, is, generally, made 
by a single impulse, or jet of sound; but, we may 
form them, by combining together a number of 
these momentary jets. Take, for example, the ele- 

2 

ment a. Let the organs be placed in the proper 
position for uttering it, and while they are in that 
position, instead of making a single impulse, make 
a number of these momentary impulses, and you 

2 

will have the element a, in the Tremor, or tremulous 
voice. If each of these impulses, is caused to pass 
through the interval of a semitone, the effect will be 
that operation of the voice, which we call crying. If 
the jets pass through a third, or some higher interval 
of the scale, the result will be laughing ; and the 
higher the interval, through which the jets pass, the 
more joyous, will be the laughter. If some of the jets, 
in sounding this element, are caused to pass through 
semitones, and others through thirds or fifths, the re- 
sult, will be a curious mixture of crying and laugh- 
ing, such as is sometimes heard in cases of hysteria. 
It has just been said that when the jets or tittles, 

2 

of the Tremor, upon the element a, rise through a 
third, or a higher interval, the result is laughter. 
We may execute a kind of laughter, upon this ele- 
ment, by causing the tittles, to rise through a tone 
only ; but, this laughter indicates no joyousness. It 
is, rather, a sardonic chuckle, such as we may fancy 






TREMOR OF THE VOICE. 75 

Falstaff to have indulged in, when soliloquizing, 
upon his ragged regiment. 

When the Tremor is executed upon the element 
a, its effect is either laughing or crying, according 
to the extent of the interval, through which the jets 
of sound pass. But, we can execute this movement 
of the voice, upon syllables, as well as upon single 
elements ; and, when it is thus applied to the syl- 
lables of discourse, its effect still depends, upon the 
extent of the interval, through which the respective 
tittles pass, as we shall presently see. 

In executing the tremor upon a syllable, we may, 
either, commence all the tittles upon the same line 
of pitch, as in the first division of the staff* below, 
or, we may execute a part of them upon one pitch, 
and the remainder upon a pitch a tone higher or 
lower, as shown upon the second division of the 
staff. In both of these divisions, the tittles are re- 
presented as passing, concretely, through a tone. 
But, they may be made to pass through any other 
concrete interval of the scale, such as a semitone, a 
third, or a fifth, as the occasion may require. 

In the third division of the staff, each tittle is re- 
presented as passing through the interval of a third, 
but not commencing upon the same line of pitch. 
The second, commences slightly higher than the 
first; the third, as much higher than the second; 
and so on, until the last, has its radical a third 
higher than the first. We have here represented 
seven tittles, as being executed upon a single syl- 
lable. The respective intervals between them, 
must, therefore, be less than semitones, because, in 
the third, there are but four semitonic intervals. A 



76 



PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 



well trained voice, might execute double the num- 
ber of tittles, upon a syllable, in passing through 
the interval of a third, which would still further 
diminish the intervals between the respective tittles. 
"We have no names by which to designate these 
minute intervals of the scale ; nor is it necessary, as 
they are never used in speech, except in connection 
with the tremor. 

In the fourth division of the staff, each tittle is 
represented as passing through the interval of a 
fifth, and the radical of the last, a third higher than 
that of the first. ■ 



*£J3 



ffi 



ja 



V^L^ 



iW 1 ^ 



SECTION XL 



OF THE INTONATION OF INTERROGATIVE SENTENCES. 

Having described the principal modifications of 
the voice, in speech, we are now prepared to con- 
sider the application of those modifications, to the 
purposes of expression. In the first place, let us 
inquire, what it is that constitutes the difference in 
expression, between plain narrative or description, 
and the proper intonation of an interrogative sen- 
tence. That there is a difference, will be evident to 
every person, who listens to the reading of any sen- 
tence, when read first as a mere expression of 
thought or opinion, and then, as a question re- 
quiring an answer. Suppose we take, as an example, 



INTONATION OF INTERROGATIVE SENTENCES. 77 

the simple declaration, "James is a strong man". 
This, if read without giving an emphasis to any one 
of the words, would be the simplest mode of ex- 
pressing an opinion. But, a hearer, who doubted 
as to the correctness of that opinion, might signify 
that doubt, by repeating the same words as a ques- 
tion ; and, the difference in intonation, in the two 
cases, would be perceptible to every listener. Some 
writers upon Elocution, have conveyed the idea that 
the difference consists in giving the rising concrete 
or slide, to the last word, (in reading the sentence 
as a question) instead of the falling, which that word 
takes, when read as a simple declaration. But, we 
may satisfy ourselves, that the mere change of direc- 
tion, in the concrete upon the last word, does not 
make the difference between the declaration and the 
interrogation. Instead of taking the sentence, as a 
simple one, let us take it as a part of a compound 
sentence, as follows; "James is a strong man, but, 
George is a stronger". If this compound sentence 
be read properly, each word in its first member, will 
have the rising concrete ; and yet, that member, will 
have nothing of the interrogative intonation. This 
intonation d<5es not, then, depend, merely, upon the 
rising slide, upon the last word of the sentence. 
What then, does convert a declarative sentence, into 
an interrogation ? 

We have already seen that, in the reading of a 
mere declarative sentence, where we give no em- 
phasis, to any one of the words, each syllable either 
rises or falls through the interval of a tone; and 
that, with the exception of the syllables contained in 
the triad of the cadence, the concrete upon each, is 



78 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

a rising one. If, instead of giving a rising tone, to 
each syllable, we apply a rising third, to each, we at 
once convert the declarative sentence into an inter- 
rogation ; and the hearer, will perceive this interro- 
gative intonation, as soon as the first syllable is pro- 
nounced. The notation of the simple sentence, 
quoted above, as an interrogation, is represented 
upon the staff below. 

"James is a strong man?" 



~7—*- 



If, instead of the rising third, we give a vising fifth 
to each syllable, the question will be much more 
earnest; having the intonation of surprise or asto- 
nishment, connected with the interrogation. The 
sentence, being read with a rising third or fifth upon 
each syllable, the hearer recognizes the interroga- 
tive intonation, the moment the first syllable is pro- 
nounced. If, instead of the rising third or fifth upon 
every syllable, we read the sentence, with only a 
rising tone upon each of the syllables, except the last, 
and apply a rising third or fifth to that, we shall, in- 
deed, recognize something like interrogation, in it, 
when it is finished; but there will be room for doubt, 
whether we really intended to ask a question, or 
whether we did not intend, merely, to give an em- 
phasis to the last word, and, accidentally, applied to 
it the rising concrete instead of the falling. 

Let us examine another sentence, somewhat dif- 
ferent in construction from the one above. 

" Give Brutus a statue with his ancestors" 



INTONATION OP INTERROGATIVE SENTENCES. 79 

The former was a simple declaration ; but this, is 
imperative ; and, if properly read, as a command, 
every syllable will take a falling concrete. But, if 
the person to whom the command is given, should 
doubt whether he had properly understood that com- 
mand, or be astonished that it should be given, he 
would repeat the same words, as a question, to the 
first speaker. In this case, each syllable will take 
the rising, instead of the falling, concrete ; and the 
extent of these concrete intervals, will depend upon 
the earnestness, with which the question is asked. 
If the speaker puts the question, for the purpose of 
satisfying himself whether he has heard aright, he 
will give, to each syllable, a rising third. But, if he 
desire to express astonishment, at the idea of thus 
distinguishing Brutus, he will use a rising fifth, or 
octave, upon each syllable, according to the degree of 
astonishment he feels. 

But, in our experiments upon interrogation, we 
need not confine ourselves to entire sentences, either 
declarative or imperative. If we take any mere 
phrase, whether it contains any definite meaning or 
not, and give to each syllable the rising concrete of 
a third, fifth, or octave, every hearer will understand 
it, as a question, or interrogation. We have ex- 
amples of this in Shakspeare, in the scene between 
Coriolanus and the servant of Aufidius. The ser- 
vant asks Coriolanus where he dwells. The reply is, 
"Under the canopy". The reply, not conveying the 
information he wishes, the servant uses the same 
words as an interrogation ; " Under the canopy?" The 
Roman answers, "Aye." The next question is, 
"Where is that?" Coriolanus answers, "In the 



80 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

city of kites and crows". The servant repeats the 
phrase as a question ; "In the city of kites and crows P' 
The phrases in italic, are converted into interroga- 
tions, by using rising fifths upon all the syllables. 

If, instead of a sentence, or a phrase, we use the 
rising concrete of a third, fifth, or octave, upon a 
single long syllable, or, even upon a single long ele- 
mentary sound, the result will be the same. Every 
hearer will understand it as an interrogatory. Let 
the student try the experiment upon the following. 
Same? Bile? Gave? Horn? 1? A? A? i? 1? 6? 

6? &c. 

Since, then, the rising third, fifth, or octave, upon 
each syllable, of a sentence or phrase, will convert 
that sentence or phrase, into an interrogation, and 
the same effect will be produced, by giving either of 
these rising concretes to a syllable, or a mere ele- 
mentary sound, the student may inquire, whether we 
should always use one of these rising intervals, in 
asking questions. To this, we must answer, in the 
negative. How, then, is the reader or speaker to 
determine, whether, in any particular case, he is to 
use one of these intervals, o r not ? In order to an- 
swer this query, with any thing like precision, it 
will be necessary to classify interrogations, accord- 
ing to their grammatical construction. 

To the First class, we will assign such sentences, 
phrases, words, or mere elementary sounds, as are 
made interrogations by intonation alone, as stated 
above. 

In the Second class, we will iu elude all declara- 
tive sentences, that are converted into interrogations 



1 



INTONATION OF INTERROGATIVE SENTENCES. 81 

by changing the place of the subject of the verb ; 
either inserting it after the verb, or between the 
auxiliary and the principal verb, as in the following. 
He seemed much affected by the intelligence. This is a 
declarative sentence; but, if we place the subject, 
he, after the verb, seemed, it then becomes an inter- 
rogatory. Seemed he much affected by the intelligence ? 
He can write well, is a declaration; but, put the sub- 
ject, he, between the auxilary can, and the principal 
verb, write, and you convert the declaration, into the 
interrogation, Can he write well f 

The Third class, includes all those interrogations, 
which commence with the interrogative pronouns 
or adverbs ; such as, who, zohich, what, where, when, 
ivhence, why, and how. 

We will consider the proper mode of reading 
such interrogations, in the order above. 

Those of the first class, having no indication of 
the interrogatory about them, except the mere mark 
at the end, can only be properly read, by giving a 
rising third, fifth, or octave, to each syllable. If the 
purpose be, simply, to ask for information, the extent 
of the interval will be only a third. If, in addition 
to asking information, we wish to express the ear- 
nestness of surprise, the intervals must not be less 
than fifths, and, when anger is to be superadded, to 
inquiry and surprise, the whole octave will be re- 
quired. 

Where, in questions of the first class, we give em- 
phatic distinction to a syllable, we accomplish the 
purpose, by giving somewhat more force to that syl- 
lable, and placing the radicals of the subsequent, 
unemphatic syllables, as high as the vanish of the 



82 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

emphatic syllable, as shown in the following nota- 
tion. "" 

"Give Bra - tus a stat - ue with his an -ces-tors?" 



J .J J j J j j J j J 



* 



In the above notation, the emphatic distinction is 
confined to the word, Brutus. But, should we wish 
to give emphasis, also, to the word, ancestors, we 
must place the radical of its accented syllable, an, as 
low as that of Bru, and the two remaining syllables, 
at the top of the vanish of an, or the last, even a tone 
higher, as shown below. 

"Give Bra - tus a stat - ue with his an - ces-tors?" 



J j J J j J J j j j * 



Finally, with regard to questions of the first class, 
it may be said that they are all elliptical ; and, that 
when we supply the ellipses, we convert interroga- 
tions of this class, into those of the second class. 
James is a strong man?, is a question of the first 
class ; but, supply the ellipsis, and it will read thus ; 
viz. Did you say (or, did he say) James is a strong 
man? This is a question of the second class. 
" Give Brutus a statue with his ancestors?" belongs to 
the first class ; but, Did he say, give Brutus a statue 
with his ancestors?, belongs to the second. So, also, 
of the following; viz. Man?; Did you say, man?; 
A ? ; Did you say, A ? 

Interrogations of the second class, generally require 
the rising third, fifth, or octave, upon every syllable; 



INTONATION OF INTERROGATIVE SENTENCES. 83 

but, there are exceptions to this, which it is necessary 
to notice. Questions are asked for different purposes. 
Sometimes, for the purpose of gaining information, 
relative to matters, of which we are ignorant, or are 
in doubt ; sometimes, for the purpose of receiving 
answers to confirm opinions, we, ourselves have ex- 
pressed; at other times, with the expectation of 
receiving answers, refuting opinions expressed by 
others. We, occasionally, ask a question with such 
an intonation, as to convey to the hearer, the idea 
that we are certain, the answer must be a negative 
one, without any reference to a previously expressed 
opinion. There may still be other objects for asking 
questions ; but these will be sufficient for our present 
purpose. 

We will now proceed to show what the intonation 
must be, in order to effect these several objects. 

When an interrogation of the second class, has for 
its object, the gaining of original information, about 
a matter of which the speaker is ignorant, or upon 
which he has doubts, the rising concrete of a third, 
must be applied to every syllable. The old interro- 
gatory, "Do you ride to town to-day?", which has 
been so frequently used, by writers upon Elocution, 
to show the effect of emphasis, will answer the pur- 
pose of illustration. If we ask this question, with 
entire ignorance of the fact inquired after, we shall 
probably give it the intonation exhibited upon the 
staff, next below. 



Do 


you 


ride 


to 


town 


to - 


day? 




J 


./ 


y 


* 


u 


./ 


«/ 


| » - 





84 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

If our object be, merely to relieve a doubt, as to 
the general fact, we shall give rather more force to 
the first word, and then place the radical pitch of all 
the remaining syllables, at least as high, as the vanish 
of the first ; as shown below. 



Do 


you 


ride 


to 


town 


to - 


day? 








«/ 


/ 


/ 


J 




J 


«/ 




J 


y 


w ■■■ 


m. 





If the doubt be, whether you, or some other per- 
son, is to perform the act, you will have the addi- 
tional force, and the lowest radical pitch, and all the 
succeeding syllables, will be kept upon a high radical 
pitch, as upon the last staff. If the doubt is, whether 
the journey is to be performed by riding or walking, 
then ride, will have most stress, and the lowest radi- 
cal pitch, and the subsequent syllables, be kept up 
as before. Should the doubt be, as to the destina- 
tion, then, town would have the extra force, and 
lowest radical pitch ; if the doubt is, as to the time 
of the action, day, will have a like prominence by 
additional force, and a lower radical pitch than any 
of the preceding syllables. 

When the object in putting a question of the 
second class, is to receive an answer to confirm an 
opinion, the questioner has previously expressed, the 
negative form is adopted, by the insertion of the 
adverb not; as follows; viz. Do you not ride to town 
to-day f 

There is also a great change upon the concretes 
of the syllables, as shown below. 



INTONATION OP INTERROGATIVE SENTENCES. 85 
Do vou not ride to town to - day? 



\ r * \ 



If, in this negative form, the point to be settled by 
the answer, be the manner of performing the action, 
the highest radical pitch, will be assigned to ride; 
if it is the place, then town, will have a like promi- 
nence ; and, if the time is to be settled, day, will take 
the prominent position. If the speaker wishes to be 
particularly emphatic, upon either of these points, 
be may give the falling concrete of a fifth, to the 
prominent syllable, and keep down the radical pitch 
of the subsequent syllables, as above. But, in all 
such interrogations, the syllables all take the falling 
concrete. 

If a question of the second class, is asked for the 
purpose of refuting an assertion made by another, 
the negative word is omitted, and all the syllables 
take the falling concrete of a third, or greater inter- 
val, as in the case above. 

As an example of that kind of question, intended 
to convey, to the hearer, the idea that the person, 
who asks it, has no doubt that the answer will be in 
the negative, we may take either of the last two 
lines of the following stanza from Gray. 

"Can storied urn or animated bust, 

Back to its mansion, call the fleeting breath ? 
Can Honor's voice, provoke the silent dust ? 

Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull, cold, ear of death ?" 

In plain prose, it would do no violence to the sense 
of this stanza, if we were to assert, positively, that 
Neither storied urn, nor animated bust, can call the fleet- 



86 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

ing breath, back to its mansion ; that, Honor's voice, can- 
not provoke the silent dust; and, that, Flattery, cannot 
soothe the dull, cold, ear of death. We may, indeed, 
read each of these three interrogations, so as to be 
equivalent to three respective assertions. But, as it 
is not in accordance with good taste, even in prose, 
to have a succession of three or more positive asser- 
tions, following each other, without any intermediate 
reasoning to establish the successive facts, so, in the 
highly finished and smooth poetry of Gray, it would 
appear entirely too dogmatical. It is best, there- 
fore, to compromise the matter, by reading the first 
question, occupying the first two lines, as though 
the persons to whom it is put, might, possibly, 
answer it by the affirmative, Yes ; and then giving 
such an intonation to each of the other two, as to 
indicate that the questioner, is sure the answer must 
be, No. To effect this object, we should read the 
first question, with rising concretes of thirds, upon 
all the syllables, as on the first staff", page 83, giving 
prominence to urn, and bust, by lower radical pitch, 
as upon do, on the first staff', page 84; and then, 
reading the other two questions according to the 
intonation given below. 



"Can 


Hon - or's 


voice, 


pro ■ 


• voke 


the 


si - 


lent 


dust r 




% 


■V "\ 


^ 


■v 


"\ 


* 


-v 


* 


^ 


*\ v v v- 





"Or 


Flatt' 


-ry, 


soothe 


the 


dull, 


cold, 


ear 


of 


death ?" 




«\ 


"V 


"V 


•V 


*\ 




«v 




^ 




V 






\ 


\ 


^ 




^ 


\ 


^ 





INTONATION OF INTERROGATIVE SENTENCES. 87 

This stanza is often read as though each question 
might be answered by the affirmative, Yes. But, it 
is scarcely doubted that every person, of good taste, 
would give the preference to the reading indicated 
above. 

Generally, when questions of the second class, are 
connected by the disjunctive or, the first of the two, 
should take the rising concretes of thirds, or higher 
intervals, ancl the second, the falling, upon some, or 
all of the syllables. This rule is without exception, 
when the questions, are in antithesis to each other. 
As an illustration of this, we may take the following 
questions, put by Richard, to Buckingham. 

"But, shall we wear these glories for a day? 
Or, shall they last, and we rejoice in them?" 

The intonation of these is given thus. 



"But, shall 


we wear these 


glo - 


ries 


for 


a day ?" 




* d 


* -/ -/ 


1 


»' 


J 


-/ «/ 







"Or, shall they 


last, 


and 


we 


re - joice 


in 


them ?" 




* d ^ 


! 


V 


u 


* 4 








V 






A 


1 


a 





We now come to consider the interrogations of 
the third class : viz., such as have interrogative pro- 
nouns or adverbs, prefixed to questions of the second 
class. Dr. Rush seems to consider the rising con- 
crete of a third, or a higher interval, upon some, or 
upon all, of the syllables of an interrogative sen- 
tence, as an essential to its proper delivery. When 
it is applied to all the syllables, he calls the intona- 



88 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

tion, the Thorough Interrogative Intonation; and, when 
this concrete rise, is applied only to a part of the 
syllables, he calls it the Partial Interrogative Intona- 
tion. But, we have seen that, in questions of the 
second class, we may, in some instances, apply the 
falling concrete, to all the syllables of an interro- 
gative sentence ; and, unless I greatly mistake, we 
never apply a simple rise of a third, or higher in- 
terval, upon any syllable of a question' of the third 
class. Let us examine this subject. Dr. Rush has 
quoted, from Shakspeare, the following address from 
Richard HI. to his brother Clarence. 

" Brother, good day ! what means this armed guard, 
That waits upon your grace ?" 

He says, very truly, that the interrogative intona- 
tion, is confined to the clause, what means this armed 
guard; the remainder of the sentence requiring the 
simple diatonic melody. The interrogative intona- 
tion, is confined to the clause in italics, because that 
is the whole of the interrogation ; the remaining 
clause being merely expletive, and but very slightly 
modifying the meaning of what precedes it. But, 
if the Doctor means that the interrogative intonation 
is given to that clause, by simple rising of concretes 
thirds or fifths, upon the syllables, I must dissent from 
that opinion. Let him, or any other good reader give 
to it, the intonation of a question of the first class, and 
he will find a manifest difference between that, and 
the intonation he gives in the natural reading of the 
question. And, this difference, will be discovered, 
by the time he has pronounced the second syllable. 
What, then, is the intonation, which this question 



INTONATION OF INTERROGATIVE SENTENCES. 89 

requires ? It certainly cannot be properly read in 
the diatonic melody. Each syllable passes through 
an interval greater than a single tone. The fact 
seems to me, to be, that every syllable, except the 
last, takes the form of a direct, unequal wave, rising 
through an interval of at least a third, and falling 
through a less one; and that the final syllable guard, 
rises through a smaller interval, and falls through, at 
least, a third. If this be a correct view of the case, 
the intonation may be given thus ; viz. 

" What means this ar - med guard ?" 



J~ </ d <T ^ *- y 



As an example of the manifest difference, between 
a question of the first class, which always requires a 
rising third, or greater interval, and one of the third 
class, let us take another extract from the great dra- 
matic poet. In the dialogue between Hamlet and Ho- 
ratio, the conversation turns upon Hamlet's father, 
who has been for some days, dead and buried. 
Horatio says, " My Lord, I think I saw him yester- 
night." Hamlet, in the utmost surprise, replies in the 
following wonderfully brief questions; viz.; "Saw? 
Who?" (To supply the ellipses in these questions, 
we should make them read thus; "Did you say, 
saw? Who, [whom] did you see?") The first of 
these, is a question of the first class ; and the second, 
one of the third class. To do justice to these, ac- 
cording to my judgment, we must give the rising con- 
crete of a fifth, at least, upon saio, and an unequal 
direct wave, rising through a third, and falling through 
a fifth, upon who. And, if this be done, every one 



10 



90 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

will perceive the difference between the two intona- 
tions upon saw, and who. We may, it is true, give 
the rising concrete of a fifth, to who; but that does 
not make a correct reading. The unequal wave, 
then, may be used for the purpose of interrogation, 
as well as the simple concrete ; but, one of its con- 
stituents, must pass through the interval, of at 
least a third ; and, in interrogative sentences, com- 
mencing with interrogative pronouns or adverbs, 
we always use such waves, instead of the plain con- 
crete. 

It may be asked how (if a greater interval than a 
tone is required in interrogation) we manage to ask 
questions in the semitonic melody. The answer is, 
that questions in this melody, are always executed 
by means of unequal waves, the first constituents of 
which, are semitones ; and, the second, not less than 
minor thirds. The semitonic constituents, preserve 
the peculiar, plaintive effect of this melody. As an 
illustration of this plaintive interrogation, let us take 
the following notation, bearing in mind, that the 
staff below, is the chromatic, not the diatonic staff. 
The question is taken from the following couplet in 
Campbell's "Exile of Erin." 

"Ah, niy sad soul, long abandoned by pleasure, 
Why, did it doat, on a fast fading treasure?" 

"Why did it doat, on a fast fa- ding trea-sure?" 






^ WA«^ f^f\*^*^, *~\ d~\ «^ 



Much more might be said upon the subject of 
interrogation, and more examples be given. But, it 



PAUSES IN DISCOURSE. 91 

is believed, if the student of Elocution, shall make 
himself thoroughly acquainted, both theoretically 
and practically, with what has already been said, 
he will be able to pursue the subject without much 
difficulty. 



SECTION XII. 



OF PAUSES IN DISCOURSE, AND THE PROPER INTONA- 
TION THEREAT. 

Grammarians and elocutionists, have written 
much, upon the subject of pauses, in discourse. 
They have told us of commas, semicolons, colons, 
and periods; of notes of interrogation, notes of 
exclamation, dashes, and parentheses ; of gramma- 
tical pauses, rhetorical pauses, caesuras, and demi- 
caesuras; and yet they have either left us ignorant of 
some of the important objects of pauses, or have given 
us very incorrect directions, for their application. 
Some, have told us, that the comma, indicates the 
shortest pause ; the semicolon, one just double the 
length of the comma ; the colon, one double the 
length of the semicolon ; and, the period, one double 
the length of the colon. Others, have told us, we 
must pause at a comma, as long as it would take us to 
say one; at a semicolon, as long, as to say, one, two; at a 
colon, as long, as to say, one, two, three ; at a period, as 
long, as to say, one, two, three, four. They have given 
us some fifteen, to twenty, rules, for the application 
of the comma, in written discourse ; and, to most of 
these they have several exceptions. For the semi- 



92 PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 

colon, colon, period, the rules and exceptions are not 
so numerous; but, the whole matter is so compli- 
cated, that no one follows these rules, with anything 
like uniformity ; not even these writers, themselves. 
Let us try whether we cannot obtain more definite 
views, as to the necessity, and uses of pauses. 

In the first place, it may be observed, that pauses, 
in speech, are absolutely necessary, to the speaker, 
for the purpose of enabling him, to obtain fresh sup- 
plies of air, in the lungs. The lungs, of even those 
most favored, as to the capacity of these organs, 
will not contain a sufficiency of air, to form any 
great number of syllables ; especially in low pitched, 
and very energetic speech. Again, certain pauses 
are necessary, in order to convey to the hearers, 
the true meaning and connection, of what we utter. 
There are points in discourse, where a pause would 
either destroy the meaning of what is spoken, or 
greatly distort it. And there are other points, at 
which, the want of a pause, would be equally injurious 
to the meaning. The great secret, then, of manag- 
ing the pauses, in oral discourse, is to avoid taking 
fresh supplies of air, at points where the sense, will 
admit of no such interruption ; and, never to omit 
a pause, where the meaning requires it. This must, 
in general, be left to the judgment of the reader, or 
the teacher ; because no system of rules, that we 
could adopt, would guide us in all cases, even if we 
were to burden the mind with them. Before leaving 
the subject, we shall, however, give a few simple 
rules of universal application. 

In giving instruction, it is often as difficult to re- 
move false impressions, from the mind of the pupil, 



PAUSES IN DISCOURSE. 93 

as it would have been, originally, to establish correct 
ones : and this subject of pauses, in reading, is no 
exception to the rule. The beginner is told, that 
he must mind his stops, or pauses, in reading ; and 
the idea is impressed upon his mind, that, if he at- 
tends to the punctuation, of the pages, he is reading, 
he is doing well. Thus, the idea is fixed upon his 
mind, that the punctuation marks, indicate all the 
pauses necessary to be made. The truth, however, 
is far different. After a time, he is told, that there is 
one exception to this, in the reading of poetry ; that 
he must, there, make a pause, at the end of each line, 
whether there is one indicated, in the text or not ; 
because, if it were read, without such a pause it 
would be converted into mere prose. We might, 
with propriety, ask the propagators of this rule, if 
they ever found any poetry, in their bibles. The fact 
is, that in poetry, as in prose, pauses are to be made, 
where the sense or the sentiment, will be improved 
by them, and not elsewhere ; and this does not 
always happen at the end of poetical lines. 

The student is next told about the caesuras and 
demi-caesuras, in poetry ; these, should be considered, 
as the mere imaginings of writers upon Elocution, 
who have written about what they did not under- 
stand. There are, perhaps, but few lines, in poetry, 
in which a pause is not required ; and, this pause, 
should sometimes, be made, at, or near, the middle 
of the line. But, frequently, a pause either at, or 
near, the middle of the line, is inadmissible. Let 
us examine the following stanza, from Beattie's 
"Hermit." 



10* 



94 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

"At the close of the day, when the hamlet, is still, 

And mortals, the sweets of forgetfulness, prove, 
When nought, but the torrent, is heard, on the hill, 

And nought, but the nightingale's song, in the grove, 
It was thus, by the cave of the mountain, afar, 

While his harp, rung symphonious, a hermit began ; 
No more, with himself, or with nature, at war, 

He thought, as a sage, though he felt, as a man." 

In this stanza, I have indicated every pause, which 
the sense, admits ; and, not one of them could be 
spared, without some injury to the reading. In the 
first line, there happens to be a pause, exactly at the 
middle ; in the third, seventh, and eighth lines, the 
sense requires pauses, near the middle. In the re- 
maining four lines, none, but those who had settled 
it, in their minds, that there must be a caesura in 
every such line, could even dream, that they had 
found one. And yet, perhaps, there are few speci- 
mens of poetry, that would be more likely to suggest 
the idea of the caesura. Indeed, this wild dream of 
the prosodists and the elocutionists, has introduced 
into the reading of this same stanza, a jingling 
melody, (such as indicated in the punctuation below) 
that effectually destoys the author's meaning. 

"At the close of the day,, when the hamlet is still, 
And mortals the sweets,, of forgetfulness prove, 
When nought but the torrent,, is heard on the hill, 
And nought but the night,, ingale's song in the grove, 
"It was thus by the cave of,, the mountain afar, 

"While his harp rung,, symphonious a hermit began; 
"No more with himself or,, with nature at war, 
" He thought as a sage though,, he felt as a man." 

I have indicated the places where I have heard 
the caesura placed, in reading or recitation, not ex- 






PAUSES IN DISCOURSE. 95 

cepting the middle of the word, in the fourth line. 
Sometimes, the word symphonions, is also divided, 
by placing the caesura, between the first and second 
syllables. Such modes of reading, entirely destroy 
the author's meaning ; and, therefore, we will con- 
sider the caesura, as a mere fancy of the prosodist, 
without any real existence, in natural delivery. 

The following examples may serve to show the 
impropriety of always making a pause, at the end 
of the line, in poetry. 

" On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; 
And, dark as winter, was the flow 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly." 

If we make a pause at the end of the third line, 
it will, at once, be perceived that the sense is injured, 
and the melody not improved. 

" The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs, make 
Their clay creator, the vain title take, 
Of Lord of thee, &c." 

A pause between the active verb, make, and its 
object, is not admissible. It is not necessary to cite 
other examples, to show the fallacy of the rule, that 
a pause must be made, at the end of every line, in 
poetry. The intelligent student, will find an abun- 
dance of them. 

Having stated that pauses ought not to be made, 
either in the middle, or at the end of the lines, in 
poetry, unless the sense, requires them, let us now 
proceed to inquire, somewhat generally, where they 
must be placed, in order to enable us to do justice 
to the meaning, of what we are uttering. We shall 



96 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

find, that some of these points, have escaped the 
notice of the prosodists. We will not pretend to 
say what particular prosodial mark, should he placed 
at every point, in written discourse, where a pause 
in delivery, is required ; nor, undertake to indicate, 
accurately, even the relative length, of the different 
pauses. The varied, or rather, the conflicting, opi- 
nions of writers, upon these subjects, do not augur, 
favorably, of the success of such attempts. That 
pauses in discourse, should be of different length, 
is certain ; but, the intonations, which immediately 
precede them, are more important than their length. 
Some mark, must be placed at the end of a sentence, 
and, there is no objection to the marks which are 
generally placed there. But, if the period, or the 
note of interrogation, is not preceded by the proper 
melody, in the reading, no attention to the mere 
length of the pauses, indicated, will enable the reader 
to convey the true meaning of the author. The 
period, when properly used, must be preceded by 
one of the forms of the cadence ; and, the note of 
interrogation, by one of the three forms of asking a 
question. If this is properly attended to, the pauses 
may be, comparatively, longer, or shorter, without 
materially injuring the sense. Good taste, it is true, 
will dictate, that the length of pauses, in general, 
should be regulated, in some measure, by the time 
and quantity, we are using in the reading. If the 
time, be slow, and the quantity long, the pauses 
should be longer, than when the time, is quick, and 
the quantity, short. 

We will now proceed to state some of the points, 
in discourse, where pauses should be made ; some 



PAUSES IN DISCOURSE. 97 

of which, are not noticed by the writers on prosody; 
and others, are in direct opposition to their rules. 
First. — When a noun is the subject of a verb, a short 
pause may be made, between that noun and the verb, 
without any injury to the sense ; and, when the noun 
is preceded by a possessive pronoun, or by one or 
more adjectives, that modify its meaning, a pause 
must be made, in order to do full justice, to the 
author's meaning. 

A long course of observation, has convinced me 
that, this rule, is without exception ; and yet, one 
of the most celebrated prosodists, has given the fol- 
lowing sentences, as admitting no pauses within 
them. "The weakest reasoners, are the most posi- 
tive." " Theology, has not hesitated, to make, or 
support, a doctrine, by the position of a comma." I 
cannot satisfy myself, in the reading of these sen- 
tences, without making the pauses, indicated, by the 
punctuation. In the second sentence, I should make 
one more, after the conjunction, or, because there is 
an ellipsis of the particle, to. 

Second. Wherever an ellipsis is made, in discourse, 
that is, where any word, or words are omitted, that 
ellipsis, should be indicated by a pause; and the 
length of the pause, should, in some measure, cor- 
respond with the time, it would require to pronounce 
what is omitted. 

The ellipsis of the word, to, in the sentence above, 
may be taken, as an example of one of the shortest 
of these pauses ; and, that of the words, must be pre- 
ceded, after the word, interrogation, in the following 
sentence, from page 96, as an example of one much 
longer. " The period, when properly used, must be 



98 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

preceded, by one of the forms of the cadence ; and 
the note of interrogation, by one of the three forms 
of asking a question." 

Third. A pause should be made, at the beginning, 
and, at the end, of every parenthetical, or, merely 
expletive phrase, clause, or word. 

A multitude of examples of such phrases, clauses, 
or words, occur, in composition ; as will be perceived, 
by reference to the italicized words, in the following 
sentences. 

" Man, in society, is like a flower, 
Blown in its native bed ; 'tis there, alone, 
His faculties, expanded in full bloom, 
Shine out." — Cowper. 

" On earth, he first beheld 
Our two first parents, yet the only two 
Of mankind, in the happy garden placed, 
Reaping immortal fruit of joy and love." — Milton. 

" But, there is yet a liberty, unsung 
By poets, and by senators unpraised, 
Which monarchs cannot grant, nor, all the powers 
Of earth and hell, confederate, take away." — Cowper. 

"Among the victims to this magnificent plan of universal plunder, 
worthy of the heroic avarice of the projectors, you have all heard, and ha 
has made himself to be well remembered, of an Indian Chief, called 
Hyder Ali Khan."— Burke. 

This is but a small sample of parenthetical, or 
expletive phrases. But, you can scarcely open a 
book, especially of poetry, in which every page will 
not furnish examples. 

Fourth. Adverbs and adverbial phrases, should, 
generally, be both preceded and followed, by a 
comma. 



PAUSES IN DISCOURSE. 90 

The words in the rule, itself, furnish one example 
of this, where the adverb, generally, is thus separated, 
by pauses, from the contiguous words. 

" He was travelling, with great haste, from New Orleans, to 
Boston." 

It is not necessary to occupy more space, with ex- 
amples, since, almost every printed page will furnish 
them; and, frequently, without any punctuation to 
correspond with the rule. 

Fifth. A pause is, generally, allowable, imme- 
diately after the conjunction but, and, or, or; and, in 
many instances, such pauses add to the clearness 
with which ideas are conveyed. 

Two examples of such pauses, are found in the 
words of the rule itself; and, there is scarcely a page 
that does not furnish them. 

But, our purpose was, not to write an essay on 
punctuation. It was, merely, to call the attention of 
the student, to the subject, by citing a few cases, 
where pauses are necessary, and yet, are very gene- 
rally omitted in printing. Many persons, have the 
idea that the insertion, in books, of all the pauses 
that are necessary, in speech, would disfigure the 
pages. But, if the principal object of punctuation 
marks, is to indicate to the reader, the places where 
pauses should be made, in reading aloud, it is not 
obvious, why any should be omitted. 

Pauses, in speech, as we have seen, serve two dis- 
tinct purposes ; first, to enable the speaker to supply 
air to his lungs ; and, second, to aid him in convey- 
ing, clearly, the meaning of what he utters. So far 
as the first purpose is concerned, it is immaterial 
what intonation is used, at the pauses ; but, to the 



100 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

second, the proper intonation, is at least as import- 
ant, as the pauses, themselves. 

The connection between words, arranged in dis- 
course, varies very greatly. In some cases it is so 
close, between contiguous words, that only a mere 
momentary suspension of sound, just sufficient to 
permit distinct articulation, is allowable. From this, 
as the closeness of the connection diminishes, the 
time of suspension may be increased, until we ar- 
rive at that, which is proper at a full cadence, be- 
tween complete sentences. But, as ha3 been inti- 
mated above, however accurately we may regulate 
the time of the suspension of sound, we shall find, 
that something more is necessary, in order to arrive, 
at a satisfactory result. Each degree of connection 
between words, separated by a pause, has its appro- 
priate intonation upon the syllables, preceding that 
pause; and this, is more important, than the mere 
length of the pause. To illustrate this, let us take 
the following lines from Bowring's translation of 
Derzhavin. 

"And, as the spangles, in the sunny rays, 
Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry 
Of heaven's bright army, glitters in thy praise." 

At the pause in the last line, let us make the regular 
triad of the cadence, as on the first staff below, and 
we shall utterly destroy the meaning. And yet, if, 
instead of this triad, we make the rising tritone, upon 
the same syllables, as on the second staff, we may 
pause, as long, as at the cadence, without the 
slightest injury to the meaning, and, with advantage, 
to the expression. 



PAUSES IN DISCOURSE. 101 

Of heav - en's bright ar - my, glit - ters in thy praise" 



* * * * € ^ , 4 * * —*- 



K 



"Of heav 


■ en's bright 


ar - 


my, 


glit - ters 


in thy praise." 


V 


«r 4 


¥ -/ 


tf 




^ * 


*^f 


* - - * 





When the student, shall have read the line, ac- 
cording to these two notations, or shall have heard 
it thus read, by another, he will be prepared to es- 
timate the effect of intonation at the pauses in dis- 
course. He will perceive, that no shortening of the 
pause, in the first notation, can preserve the mean- 
ing of the line ; nor, any reasonable extension of it 
destroy that meaning, if read according to the second 
notation. He will, therefore, see the importance of 
the phrases of melody, as described on pages 52 and 
53, and of being able to execute them, as occasion 
shall require. 

The rising tritone, immediately preceding a pause, 
indicates the closest connection between the parts, 
separated by that pause. The next, in order, is the 
rising ditone ; then, the phrase of the monotone ; the 
next, the falling ditone; then the falling tritone; the 
feeble cadence, made by only descending two tones, 
instead of three ; the full cadence, descending three 
tones ; and, finally, the prepared cadence, such as de- 
scribed on page 59. If these phrases of melody be 
properly managed, the length of the pauses, al- 
though deserving of attention, will be found of less 
importance, than has been, generally, imagined, by 
writers upon prosody. We have seen that, at the 



102 



PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 



pause between the nominative and the verb, which 
is, perhaps, as close a connection, as any, where a 
pause is admissible, the pause may be, comparatively, 
long, without injury to the meaning, if the rising 
tritone, precedes it; and that the shortening of the 
pause, cannot preserve the sense, if the triad of the 
cadence is used, upon the same syllables. The no- 
tation of a passage from Milton, is given below, 
with a punctuation, that corresponds with the mean- 
ing, but differs from the ordinary editions of that 
poet. 

So, spake the ser - aph Ab - diel ; faith - ful found, 





« 


W 


* 


W 


*/ 


^ 




* 


* 


J 


^ 




A - 


mong 


the 


faith 


■ less. 


Faith 


-ful 


on - 


iy 


he. 




. d ■ 


4 






mj 


tf 


• 






«r 






^ 


* 








i 


* 






A - 


mong 


in 


- nu 


mer 


- a - 


ble 


false, 


un - 


moved, 


-• 


tf 


* 


tf 


*• 


^ 


«S 


«r 




^ 


* 






Un 


- sha - 


ken, 


un 


- se - 


duced, 


un 


■ ter - 


ri - 


fied, 




d 


*r 


<* 


«/" 


*' 


* 


«• 


rf 


^ 


J 






His 


loy - 


al 


" ty, 


he 


kept, 


his 


love, 


his 


zeal. 




tf 


*/ 


tf 


d 


<r 


M 


NT 


cf 


-/ 




- q 




Nor 


num - 


ber, 


nor 


ex ■ 


am - 


pie, 


with 


him 


wrought, 




^ 


J 






a/ 


* 


4 


«/ 


^ 


* 


■W 


w 


«r 


*t 


9 















OF ACCENT. 103 

To swerve from truth, or change his con - stant mind. 



« 4 4 4 4 4—4 * 4 « 



Though ain - gle. 



^=s: 



Dr. Rush, has given a notation of this passage, 
differing, considerably, from that above. I prefer 
the feeble cadence at Abdiel; and, to make that 
cadence, by giving the downward concrete, upon 
both syllables of that word, because the first, is the 
accented syllable. I make a full cadence at the end 
of the second line, as he does; but, he uses the first 
form of the cadence, with the falling concrete upon 
the final syllable, only, and I, take the second form, 
because the antepenult of the line, is an accented 
syllable. At the end of the fifth line, I, have taken 
the first form of the cadence, and the Doctor, has 
used the fifth, giving a falling concrete of two tones, 
to zeal, which makes it decidedly emphatic; and 
this I do not think allowable, unless we, also, give 
emphasis to loyalty, and to love. Other parts of the 
melody, differ from that of Dr. Rush ; but, this dif- 
ference may be considered a mere matter of taste, 
and does not affect the* sense of the extract. 



section xm. 

OF ACCENT. 



Writers on philology, have, generally, spoken of 
accent, as being the distinction, given to one syllable 



104 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

of a word, over the others, by the application of 
greater force, to that syllable. This account of ac- 
cent, is certainly true, in many cases ; but, it is not 
the whole truth ; because accent is frequently given 
to syllables, without the use of any additional stress 
or force ; as we shall presently see. 

Accent, may be defined to be, the fixed distinc- 
tion, which we give to one syllable of a word, by 
either greater force, or longer time, on that syl- 
lable, than on the others. It is a fixed distinction, 
because it is the same, generally, whether that word 
be pronounced alone, from the column of a diction- 
ary, or, as found in the body of a sentence, in read- 
ing or speaking. Orthoepists do not always agree, 
as to which syllable, of certain words, should have 
this accentual distinction ; but, as the accent gives 
no special meaning to a word, it is, really, of but 
little consequence, which of the syllables, it is placed 
upon, provided we do not deviate from the practice 
of good speakers, so as to render our pronuncia- 
tion remarkable. It would be well, if all would 
agree, so to place the accents upon words, as to 
render them the easiest of pronunciation, and the 
most agreeable to the ear. But, fashion rules su- 
preme, in this, as in many other things. Corn-par' -a- 
ble, is, certainly, much easier of articulation, and 
more pleasing to the ear, than com'-par-a-ble; but, 
fashion has decided, that the latter is preferable, and 
so it must be, until the fashion shall change. Some 
of our lexicographers have tried to convince us, 
that, in the word acceptable, the accent should be 
placed upon the first syllable, rather than the 



OF ACCENT. 105 

second ; but, fortunately, this attempt has failed, so 
far as sensible speakers are concerned. 

Accent was defined, above, to be a fixed distinc- 
tion given to one syllable of a word, by greater 
force, or greater time, than is applied to the other 
syllables of the word. When additional force, or 
stress is to be used, for the purpose of giving ac- 
cent to a syllable, the kind of stress, will depend 
upon the nature of that syllable. On pages 21 and 
22, we divided syllables into three different classes. 
First, those that admit of no extension, in time, 
without deforming the pronunciation ; such as ok, 
et, vie, &c. Second, those that allow a small degree 
of extension ; such as, God, pad, eon, &c. Third, 
such as admit of indefinite extension; as, blame, 
broad, horn, &c. • 

When the accent is to be placed upon a syllable of 
the first class, as in the words ac'ceni, vie'tory, petu- 
lant, &a the only mode by which, we can give it the 
distinction it requires, is the abrupt radical stress. 

When the accent is to be placed upon a syllable 
of the second class, as in the words, God'like, Parting- 
ton, con* sort, &c. the loud concrete, upon that syllable, 
is the appropriate mode. 

When the accent falls upon syllables of the third 
class, as in the words, war'like, blam'able, mor'ning, 
&c. they may be properly distinguished by long quan- 
tity, without any additional stress; and this mode, is 
certainly the most musical, and agreeable to the ear. 
It is true, that, in certain kinds of reading and speak- 
ing, in which rapid enunciation is required, we ac- 
cent syllables of this class, by the loud concrete, or 

the radical stress ; but, this should never be done, 

11* 



106 PKINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

when the rate of utterance is such, as to admit the 
accent by time, or quantity. 

It is so far from being a fact, that extra stress, 
alone, is used, for giving accent to syllables, that it 
is often very difficult thus to accent one, in a word 
where the adjoining syllable is naturally long. 
When the word perfume, is used as a verb, all agree 
in placing the accent on the second syllable ; but, 
when used as a noun, some of our orthoepists, 
place the accent on the first syllable. The first syl- 
lable belongs to the second class, and the second, to 
the third class. The second syllable, easily takes 
the accent, by its long quantity, without any more 
force, than is given to the first ; in fact, if it has its 
full time, it will retain the accent, although its force, 
or loudness, may be much less, than that of the 
first. But, we can only give the accent to the first 
syllable, by giving it strong force, and suppressing 
the force, and curtailing the time, of the second. 
There are many other words, of the same descrip- 
tion. Hence, we infer that a syllable of the third 
class, is much more easily accented by quantity, 
than one of the first or second, contiguous to it, by 
additional force. 

There are many words, in which the syllables are 
of about equal length, when naturally pronounced ; 
such as, needful, farewell, amen, &c. In such words, 
a slight addition of quantity, on either syllable, will 
give it the accent. 

Some writers upon orthoepy, have promulgated a 
rule, that, when the accent falls upon a consonant, 
the syllable is short ; and, long, when it falls upon a 
vowel. It is to be supposed, since these were men, 



OF EMPHASIS. 107 

of at least, average, intelligence, that they meant 
something, by this rule ; but, it is to be doubted, 
whether their readers, ever discovered what that 
something was. When the accent falls upon a con- 
sonant! When does that occur? We sometimes 
form syllables of consonants, it is true ; but, those 
syllables are never accented. And, when a syllable 
of the first class, is formed of a vowel and one or 
more consonants, the whole force of the radical 
stress, is expended upon the vowel; and yet, the 
syllable is short, in direct opposition to the rule. 
When syllables of the second class, composed of a 
vowel and one or more consonants, are accented by 
the loud concrete, the vowel, takes more than an 
equal share of the loudness, and still the syllable is 
short. In many syllables of the third class, which 
are accented by quantity, the consonants take more 
than an equal share of the time, as in the word re- 
venge, and yet, these syllables are long. What, then, 
do the promulgators of this rule, mean ? 



SECTION XIV, 

OF EMPHASIS. 



By accent, we distinguish one syllable of a word, 
from the others ; and by emphasis, we distinguish 
one or more words of a sentence, from the others. 
In giving the accent to a syllable, we are confined 
to force and quantity as the agents ; but, for giving 
emphasis to words, the means are much more nu- 
merous, as we shall presently see. When we give 



108 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

emphasis to a word of more than one syllable, the 
principal distinction, is given to that syllable which 
has the accent. But, although accent and emphasis 
thus, in some measure, agree, they differ in one 
important respect. Accent, in general, gives no 
special meaning to a word. The word acceptance, 
for example, means just the same, whether the ac- 
cent be placed upon the first or second syllable. 
But, a change in place, of the emphasis, from one 
word in a sentence, to another, will always change 
the meaning of that sentence ; and, if we give em- 
phasis to a word in a sentence, that sentence always 
expresses something different, from what it would, 
without the emphasis. 

We may then define Emphasis to be, that expres- 
sive distinction, which we, sometimes, give to one 
or more words, in a sentence, over the others. 

We have just said that the means of giving em- 
phatic distinction to words, are more numerous 
than those of giving accent to syllables. Let us 
now proceed to inquire what those means are, and 
how they are to be used. 

Time and Force, which are used for accent, are 
two of them. We have, in addition to these, seve- 
ral forms of Pitch, both concrete and discrete; 
and, the concrete pitch, is sometimes used in the 
form of simple rise or fall ; and, sometimes, in that 
of the wave, either equal or unequal. Quality of 
Voice, too, is often used, in conjunction with the 
other means of giving emphasis to words. 

In the enumeration of the means of giviug em- 
phatic distinction to words, Pitch is named third in 
order. But in treating of these means, separately, 



OF EMPHASIS. 109 

I shall speak of the varieties of pitch, first ; because, 
I consider them, to be, by far, the most important 
agents. It has been said, already, that in plain, un- 
impassioned discourse, and where no emphasis is 
used, each syllable rises or falls, concretely, through 
the interval of a single tone of the scale ; and, that 
the discrete skips, between syllable and syllable, are 
only made through the same interval. But, it is, at 
least, doubtful, whether any emphasis, can be given 
to a word, without using at least the interval of a 
third, upon the emphatic syllable. If such be the 
fact, we may, then, properly, consider pitch as the 
most important element, in emphasis. Increased 
force, it is true,, generally acts, in combination with 
changes of pitch, in giving emphasis; but, it is 
not, in all cases, necessary. 

Of the Emphasis of Pitch. 

"When we give the emphasis of Pitch to a word, 
the slow concrete rise or fall, is always to be pre- 
ferred, provided the emphatic syllable is one of suffi- 
cient length for our purpose. But, it often happens 
that the emphatic syllable, is so short, that we can- 
not give it sufficient prominence by this means. In 
such cases, we place the emphatic syllable, by a 
radical skip, a third, a fifth, or an octave, (according 
to the strength of the emphasis we wish to give) 
higher than the syllable immediately preceding it. 
We have an example of this kind, in the close of 
the speech of Moloch, in the 2nd. book of "Para- 
dise Lost." The "sceptred king," winds up, by 
saying, 

"Which, if not victory, is yet revenge." 



110 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

In this line, victory and revenge, are in antithesis, 
and must, both, be made strongly emphatic, in order 
to give the true meaning and spirit of the author. 
But, the accented syllable, vie, is so very short, that 
the concrete rise of a fifth upon it, being of mere 
momentary duration, does not give it sufficient dis- 
tinction for our purpose. If, however, we place the 
radical of that syllable, a fifth, higher than the radi- 
cal of not, and then, give it the rapid concrete of a 
fifth, it will have the prominence it requires. There 
being two remaining syllables, in the emphatic 
word, we may place their radicals upon the same 
pitch as that of vie; but, if we make a falling dis- 
crete upon to, so as to place its radical upon the 
same pitch as that of not, the emphasis will be still 
more conspicuous. This intonation is given upon 
the staff below. 



"Which, if 


not 


vie - to - ry, 


is 


yet 


re - 


venge". 












d 


4 




fif * 


of 


*t *S 


«r 






1 





I find another line, in "Paradise Lost", to the 
emphatic word in which, I can only give the requi- 
site prominence, by a similar intonation to that 
above. The author is speaking of the "cry of hell 
hounds", round about the middle of Sin. He says 
that "vexed Scylla", is less to be abhorred, than 
they; and that the followers of the "night hag", are 
not "uglier". We must, therefore, make both ab- 
hor'd, and uglier, strongly emphatic. The accented 
syllable of the first, hor'd, being long, there is no 
difficulty in giving it the slow rising concrete of the 






OF EMPHASIS. Ill 

fifth, or the direct equal wave of the fifth, so as to 
make that word sufficiently emphatic. But, the 
accented syllable of uglier, is too short for this, and 
we have to make the syllable, ng, conspicuous in the 
same way as vie, in the line above ; and then, drop 
the radical pitch of tier, so as to correspond with nor. 
The following is the line in question. 

"Nor uglier, follow the night hag, -when, called", 

In the above line, the word hag, must also be made 
emphatic; but, this is done by placing the radical 
of that syllable, at least as high, as the vanish of the 
preceding syllable, and giving it the falling concrete 
of a third, or a fifth. 

When we give emphasis, to a monosyllable, by a 
rising third, fifth, or octave, the remaining syllables, 
of the clause, should be kept up in radical pitch, as 
high as the vanish of the emphatic word. The fol- 
lowing is an example, viz. " If the show of anything, 
be good, I am sure the reality, is better". Here we 
give emphasis to the monosyllable shoiv, by a rising 
concrete of a third, and we should keep up the radi- 
cal pitch, of the three subsequent words of the 
clause, as high as the vanish of the emphatic word. 
If we should drop the pitch upon those words, as 
low as those preceding skoio, and give them the 
usual fulness of sound, we should greatly impair the 
impression of the emphasis, upon shoio. 

When we give emphasis to a word, by the falling 
concrete of a third, fifth, or octave, the subsequent 
syllables of the clause, must be kept down, in radi- 
cal pitch, a3 low as the vanish of the emphatic one ; 
and, each of those subsequent syllables, must have 



112 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

the falling concrete; as shown, in the notation 
below, of a line from "Hamlet's Soliloquy". 

"Or, to take arms a - gainst a sea of trou-bles". 



*—**—+ \ * S \ - 3 * "~ 



In the foregoing examples, of the emphasis of 
pitch, the intervals of thirds and fifths, are sufficient 
to give proper distinction to the emphatic word. 
But, in some cases, nothing short of the octave, 
either concrete or discrete, will serve our purpose. 
The following lines, from the angry address of 
Hamlet to Laertes, at the grave of Ophelia, furnish 
examples of the emphasis of the octave. 

" 'Zounds, show me what thou'lt do ; 
Woo'tweep? woo't fight? Ytoo't fast? woo't tear thyself ?" 

The words in italics, call for the highest degree of 
emphatic distinction, in order to give proper ex- 
pression to the violent exasperation of Hamlet; and 
yet, the syllables weep, fight, and fast, are too short 
to admit of the slow, rising concrete of an octave. 
Our only available method, then, is to place the 
radical of each of them, an octave higher than that 
of the preceding syllable woo't. But, when we come 
to the syllable tear, we have one that admits of in- 
definite extension of time, and, to it, we give the 
concrete octave, because this mode is more effectual 
and more agreeable to the ear, than the wide dis- 
crete skips. 

In speaking of emphasis, given by rising thirds, 
fifths, or octaves, we have spoken of the emphatic 
syllable, as taking the simple concrete rise. This, 



OF EMPHASIS. 113 

however, is not always the fact. When the emphatic 
syllable occurs in a question of the first or second 
class (see page 80) the concrete is, generally, simple; 
but, when it is in a declarative, conditional, or im- 
perative clause or sentence, the intonation is, com- 
monly, if not always, in the form of a direct, unequal 
wave, the rising constituent of which, is the greater. 
Thus, upon the two emphatic syllables, hor'd, and 
show, noticed on page 110, the emphasis is given 
by such waves. Upon the first we may rise, 
through a fifth, and fall, through a third; and, 
upon the second, show, we may rise through a third, 
and fall through a tone ; and, in each case, we shall 
give the expression which the sense requires. But, 
if we give to these syllables, the simple concrete rise 
of a fifth and third, respectively, each of them, will 
impress itself upon the ear, as a part of a question, 
of the first or second class ; and thus, produce a con- 
fusion of ideas, that will impair the meaning. 

In grave discourse, magnificent description, and, 
indeed wherever we use the equal wave of the tone, 
or second, as a current melody, we use the equal 
wave of the third or fifth, for the purpose of giving 
emphasis to long syllables. In the following lines 
from the opening of the second book of "Paradise 
Lost", the syllables in italics, may receive the em- 
phasis of the equal wave of the third. 

"High, on a throne of royal state, which far 
Outshone the wealth of (9/-mus and of Ind, 
Or, where the gorgeous east, with richest hand, 
Showers, on her kings barbaric, pearl and gold, 
Satan, exalted, sat." 

I do not pretend that this will give the only allow- 

12 



114 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

able reading of the passage ; but, it seems to me, 
that the words marked, require a slight emphatic 
distinction, and I know of no other appropriate way 
of giving it. 

In the following passage from the reply of Death 
to Satan, at the gates of Hell, the pronoun I, requires 
an emphasis, and the equal direct wave of the fifth, 
is the appropriate movement for giving it. 

"And breath' st defiance, here, and scorn? 
Where / reign king ; and, to enrage thee more, 
Thy king, and lord." 

Dr. Rush has given the word thy, as an example of 
the use of this wave ; but, if he uses it on that word, 
his reading of the passage, must differ essentially 
from mine. The monster, as Milton tells us, begins 
his reply, "full of wrath" ; and this continues until 
he comes to the declaration that Satan and the other 
fallen angels, are there " condemned to waste eternal 
days in woe and pain." At this point, the emotion 
of the goblin changes to that of the greatest exulta- 
tion. Then commences the angry question, in the 
first line of our quotation. In the expletive clause, 
"where I reign king", appended to that question, 
the emotion is that of the highest self-admiration ; 
which makes the wave of the fifth, appropriate to 
the emphasis upon I. In the closing words of the 
passage, the emotion which the author intends to 
depict, is that of exultation again, mingled with con- 
tempt ; and, therefore, I give to thy, and lord, the 
unequal wave of a rising fifth and falling octave. 
As to the two emphatic words, defiance, and scorn, in 
the first line of the quotation, the rising octave upon 
them, is the proper movement. 



OP EMPHASIS. 115 

We have said nothing, as yet, of the mode of 
giving emphatic distinction, to words in the plain- 
tive or chromatic melody. In sentiments requiring 
this melody, we generally find ;t necessary to use 
slow time, and long quantity upon all the syllables 
that will bear extension. And, this long quantity, 
cannot be properly given, except in the form of the 
wave. Whenever the wave is used, in the general 
movement, through a sentence, the emphatic syl- 
lables, take that form also. When we employ the 
wave of the second or tone, in the current melody, 
one of the constituents, at least, of the wave upon 
the emphatic syllable, must pass through the interval 
of a third. So also, in the chromatic melody, one 
of the constituents of the wave upon the emphatic 
syllable, must pass through an interval greater than 
the semitone ; generally, through a third. But, if 
we make both constituents of that wave pass through 
intervals greater than a semitone, the emphatic word 
loses, entirely, its plaintive character ; and this, must 
be preserved. Therefore, in giving emphasis, in the 
chromatic melody, we use the unequal wave, the 
first constituent of which, is a semitone, to preserve 
the plaintive expression, and the second constituent, 
through a third or fifth, to give the emphasis. The 
following lines will give us examples of this kind 
of emphasis. 

" Where is the mother, that looked on my childhood ? 
And, where is the bosom friend, dearer than all ?" 

The four words, in italics, need emphasis, and the 
mode of giving it, is to use, upon the accented syl- 
lable, the unequal, direct wave ; of which the first 
constituent is a semitone, and the second, a third. 



116 PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 

When using the wave as a means of emphatic 
distinction, and the emphatic word, falls within the 
limits of the cadence, as at the end of the lines 
ahove, the wave is always direct, and the interval of 
the second constituent, greater than that of the first. 
So also, when you wish to give the impression of a 
falling concrete, hy the wave, in any part of the sen- 
tence, the second constituent must fall through the 
interval of a third, at least. The word sole, in the 
following lines from Milton, Dr. Rush has given, as 
an example of the emphasis of time, and median 
stress. 

" Wonder not, sovereign Mistress, if, perhaps, 
Thou canst, who art sole wonder." 

I can make this word emphatic, hy using, upon it, 
the equal, direct wave of the third ; (not by the wave 
of the second) but, it suits me better, to rise through 
a tone, and fall through a third ; or, to rise through 
a third, and fall through a fifth. 

Of the Emphasis of Stress. 

It has, already, been stated, that stress is used for 
the purpose of giving emphatic distinction to words ; 
but, that it is, generally, if not always, used in con- 
nection with some of the higher intervals of pitch, 
either discrete, or concrete. We cannot, indeed, 
pronounce a syllable, without giving one of the 
forms of stress ; but, when it is used for emphasis, 
it is in a more intensified form, than upon the or- 
dinary syllables, in the same sentence ; and, there- 
fore, it aids the variation in pitch, in distinguishing 
the emphatic syllable from the others, with which it 
is connected. 



OF EMPHASIS. 117 

Thus the short syllable vie, upon the staff, page 110, 
has a radical pitch, a fifth higher than the preced- 
ing syllable, and this gives it a certain distinction ; 
but, if the radical stress applied to that syllable, 
should be no stronger, than upon the preceding 
syllable, the emphasis would be too feeble for our 
purpose ; whereas, the change of pitch, and the 
strong radical stress, together, answer that purpose 
exactly. If we read the line over the staff, page 110, 
in the plain diatonic melody, without emphasis, the 
syllable, vie 9 will rise, concretely, through the inter- 
val of a tone. But, having the emphasis upon it, 
it passes, rapidly, through a greater interval. In 
fact, as it appears to me, there is no emphatic syl- 
lable, that does not take a concrete rise or fall, 
greater than a tone. 

All the different modes of stress, are used, upon 
emphatic syllables; and, the one which should be 
employed, upon any particular occasion, must depend 
much, upon the nature of the sentiment, to be con- 
veyed. In order to communicate plain thoughts or 
ideas, we use the Radical Stress, with but slight 
abruptness. In the expression of Anger, we use the 
same stress, with greatly increased abruptness. In 
the expression of Grief, Love, Joy, high Admira- 
tion, and some other emotions, the Median Stress, is 
properly employed. In serious Admonition, the ex- 
pression of strong Determination, Scorn and Hatred, 
the Thorough Stress, is the only one that can be pro- 
perly used. The Vanishing Stress, as has been said 
before, may be used to give prominence to emphatic 
words, in expressing Anger, combined with the 
highest degree of Impatience. 

12* 



118 PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 

Emphasis of Time. 

Time, in connection with pitch and force, has an 
important influence in giving emphasis to words ; 
but, I am not aware that we ever give emphatic dis- 
tinction, by this element alone. Long time, com- 
bined with the median stress, and the wave of the 
third, gives an emphasis, that is, perhaps, more 
grateful to the ear than any other ; and, when con- 
nected with unequal waves of the higher intervals, 
and the thorough stress, it gives intensity to the ex- 
pression of scorn or contempt. Short time, is in- 
dispensable, in giving emphasis in angry or impa- 
tient discourse. Medium time, is employed in em- 
phasis, when we are expressing plain thought, free 
from any passionate emotion. 

Aspirated Emphasis. 

The aspiration, is sometimes used, mingled with 
vocality, through a whole sentence ; and, in other 
instances, it is applied to single words for the pur- 
pose of increasing the emphasis of pitch. Take the 
following from the street scene between Brutus and 
Cassius, in which Cassius is trying to incite Brutus 
to join in the conspiracy against Caesar. Brutus has 
been considered very friendly to Csesar, and yet, his 
co-operation is held, by the conspirators, to be very 
important; and Cassius, has undertaken to sound 
him. In the midst of their conversation, a great 
shout from the Forum, is heard. Then Brutus 
speaks, as follows ; 

"What means this shouting? I do fear, the people 
Choose Cresar for their king." 



OF ExMPIIASIS. 119 

This falls in, opportunely, with the purpose of Cas- 
sius. If Brutus fears this, he is, of course, opposed 
to it; and, therefore, the more likely to join in the 
conspiracy. Cassius replies, 

li Aye, do you fear it? 
Then must I think you would not have it so." 

Here we must make the words, aye and fear, em- 
phatic ; and we may do this by giving to each of 
them, a rising third or fifth. But, the emphasis thus 
given, falls short of exhibiting the full extent of the 
pleasing surprise, which Cassius feels. If, in addi- 
tion to this rising third or fifth, we mingle aspira- 
tion, with the vocality of those syllables, the mingled 
emotions of pleasure and surprise, will be properly 
expressed. 

In the scene, before referred to, between Hamlet 
and Horatio, the astonishment of the former, when 
he asks his first question, with the single word, saw, 
can only be expressed by mingling with the vocality 
of that word, a large amount of aspiration. The 
same may be said with respect to the words king and 
father, used just after. But, can these words be con- 
sidered emphatic ? We have said that emphasis is 
the distinction which is given to one, or more words, 
in a sentence ; and, here, the words saw, king, and 
father, appear each to stand alone. It is true, it ap- 
pears so, at first thought ; but, a moment's reflection, 
shows us that each is onty an emphatic word in an 
elliptical sentence. "Did you say, you saw him?" 
"Are you sure it was the king?" But, remembering 
that his uncle was the reigning king, he immediately 
adds the other question, "Was it my father?" 



120 PRINCIPLES OF EL0JUTIOX. 

These then, are emphatic words, according to the 
definition. 

We might cite, from the drama, many other in- 
stances of the use of the aspiration, for the purpose 
of increasing the effect of emphasis ; hut, the fore- 
going will suffice. 

Of the Guttural Emphasis. 

A modification of the voice, may he produced, hy 
the retraction of the root of the tongue, while speak- 
ing, so as almost to close the passage from the glot- 
tis to the lips. This is called the Guttural Vibration. 
When sounds are forcibly uttered, under this modi- 
fication, they are peculiarly harsh and disagreeable 
to the ear. Good speakers, therefore, never use it, 
unless they are uttering sentiments, to which it is 
appropriate ; and these do not very frequently occur. 
These sentiments or emotions, are Scorn, Envy, 
Disgust, Aversion, Hatred, &c. And, indeed, when 
it is required, a reader of good taste, will confine 
its application, to an occasional word in a sentence ; 
and, none so proper, for this, as the emphatic words, 
which occur in the expression of such emotions. 
The guttural vibration, thus applied to an occasional 
emphatic syllable, gives an intensity to the expres- 
sion, that seems to spread over whole sentences. It 
is therefore a very important means of giving em- 
phatic distinction. 

In Satan's soliloquy, near the commencement of 
Book IV., "Paradise Lost," we find a case where 
this kind of emphasis, should be used. Satan ad- 
dresses the sun, but without the name, and then 



OF EMPHASIS. 121 

11 to thee I call, 
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, 
sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams." 

We may give a strong emphasis to hate, by using 
upon it the falling concrete of a fifth, with loud 
thorough stress. But, with the same falling interval 
and a moderate stress, and then, the guttural vibra- 
tion added, we give an intensity to the expression, 
that the greatest force of voice, without this, could 
not equal. 

The accented syllable of detestable, in the following 
lines from " Timon of Athens", should have the gut- 
tural vibration upon it, in order to give full expres- 
sion to the malediction, which Timon is pronouncing, 
against his native city. 

"Nothing I'll bear from thee 
But nakedness, thou detestable town." 

The student who wishes more examples of the use of 
this means of increasing the intensity of emphasis, 
will find them in the drama; some, in the cursing of 
Suffolk, in King Henry VI. The words, gall and 
worse, in the following sentence, for example, 

" Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest food 
They take." 



122 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

SECTION XV. 

OF THE GROUPING OF SPEECH. 

"When speaking of pauses in discourse, it was 
stated, that they were necessary, for the purpose of 
conveying, clearly, the meaning of the author or 
speaker. By these pauses, we separate sentences, 
into groups of words, in which, each word, has a 
nearer relation to other words, in the same group, 
than to any word, in either of the other groups. The 
sentence last written, may serve, as an example, of 
this grouping, by pauses. The first group, is the 
expletive phrase, "by these pauses". It may, either, 
stand, as it does, before the principal verb, of the 
sentence, or, it may be inserted after the word, sen- 
tences. But, in either case, it must be separated, by 
a pause, or, by pauses, from the rest of the sentence. 
The next group is, "we separate sentences", containing 
the principal verb, its subject, and, its object. The 
next is the expletive, "into groups of words". Then 
the connecting phrase, "in which". Next, we have 
the secondary member, of the compound sentence, 
(leaving out the expletive) " each word, has a nearer 
relation to other words, than to any word". The ex- 
pletive phrase, "in the same group", left out of the 
secondary sentence, and separated from it, by pauses, 
forms another group. And, finally, a group com- 
posed of the limiting phrase, " in either of the other 
groups". 

If, in a plain prose style, we are careful to make 
the necessary pauses, and use the proper phrases 
of melody, at those pauses, the hearer will have 



GROUPING OF SPEECH. 123 

no difficulty in perceiving the meaning, as we 
proceed. But, we, sometimes, have so many ex- 
pletive phrases or clauses, and the style so much 
inverted, even in prose, as to render necessary 
something more than the mere pauses, to show 
the connection between the main parts of the 
sentence. We frequently find examples, of this 
kind, in the speeches of Burke. The following 
is one of them. 

"When, at length, Hyder Ali, found that he had to do with men, 
•who, either would sign no convention, or, whom no signature, and no 
treaty, could bind, and, who were the determined enemies of human 
intercourse, itself, he decreed, to make the country, possessed by 
these incorrigible, and predestinated criminals, a memorable example 
to mankind." 

This sentence, was copied from one of our reading 
books, and, it was there marked with four pauses, 
preceding the period at the end. I then examined 
another of our popular reading books, in which, the 
compiler professed to mark all the pauses that were 
to be made in the reading. He, had eight. I, have 
marked sixteen, and cannot read the sentence, to my 
own satisfaction, with less. But, the making of 
these pauses, alone, will not be sufficient, to enable 
us to present to the mind of the hearer, a clear 
picture of the meaning of the author. There are 
certain expletive words and phrases, that must be 
thrown, as it were, into the background of the pic- 
ture ; and, there are other words, which must be 
made more prominent, than would be necessary, if 
the sentence were less involved. 

But, the difficulties to be encountered, in reading 
such sentences, as that above quoted, are small, 



124 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

compared with many, which occur in the writings 
of the poets ; particularly in the works of Shak- 
speare and Milton. The method of overcoming 
such difficulties, is, then, surely, worthy the atten- 
tion of the elocutionist. And yet, until the 
"Philosophy of the Human Voice", was pub- 
lished, scarcely any attention was paid to this sub- 
ject, by writers upon Elocution. Some of them, 
indeed, have spoken of the manner of reading 
parenthetical phrases ; but, their directions have 
generally been such, as would warrant us in saying, 
they would be " more honored in the breach, than 
the observance". 

Let us now try, whether we cannot find some 
mode, of so grouping these difficult sentences, as to 
convey, with clearness, what the author, or speaker, 
intends to impress, upon the minds of his hearers. 
The necessary pauses, and the accompanying phrases 
of melody, we will leave out of the account ; they 
having been spoken of, before. We will commence 
with an examination of the latter portion of the 
above sentence, from Burke: viz. "he decreed, to 
make the country, possessed by these incorrigible, 
and predestinated criminals, a memorable example 
to mankind." If we throw out the expletive phrase, 
"possessed by these incorrigible, and predestinated crimi- 
nals" nothing more is necessary, than a proper 
attention to the pauses and melody. But, being 
there, we must contrive to throw it into the back- 
ground ; and, we may do this, by lowering the 
general pitch upon this phrase, and reading it more 
monotonously, than the main body of the sentence. 
We may, also, diminish, slightly, the force of voice, 



GROUPING! OP SPEECH. 125 

upon the phrase ; but, this is not an absolute re- 
quisite. This method of throwing an expletive 
phrase into the background, is called the "Abate- 
ment of Voice.'" But, this abatement of voice upon 
the expletive phrase, is not all that is required, pro- 
perly to connect the parts, between which it inter- 
venes. If, in addition to the abatement, we give an 
emphasis, of the rising third, upon the noun, country 
(which would need none, if the expletive phrase were 
omitted) we shall then clearly mark the connection 
between country, and the phrase, memorable example ; 
which is the principal thing needed. This mode 
of grouping, by giving emphasis to a word, which 
would not, otherwise, require it, is called the Em- 
phatic Tie. 

Let us now examine a sentence from Shakspeare. 

"You and I, have heard our fathers say, 
There was a Brutus once, that would have brooked 
The eternal Devil, to keep his state in Rome, 
As easily, as a king." 

In this sentence, the adverb, easily, qualified the 
active verb, brooked; and yet, without great care, it 
will rather appear to modify the verb, keep. The 
object of the verb, and the succeeding phrase, inter- 
vening, causes the difficulty. We may use the abate- 
ment of voice, upon the phrase, to keep his state in 
Rome, and give the emphatic tie, upon brooked and 
easily; and these two, will nearly effect our purpose. 
But, there will be something, still wanting. This will 
be found, to be a much more rapid utterance of the 
interjected phrase, than is used upon the other parts 
of the sentence. This rapid utterance, for the 

13 



126 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

purpose of grouping, is called the Flight of the 
Voice. 

But, there is another difficulty to be overcome, in 
the reading of this passage. Cassius means that the 
Brutus, to whom he refers, would have brooked the 
Devil, as easily, as he (the Brutus) would have brooked 
a king. But, without care, it will appear that he 
means, as easily, as a king, would have brooked 
him (the Devil). To prevent this impression, we 
must give a strong emphasis, by the falling concrete, 
upon Devil, and another, of the same kind, upon 
king. 

"We have found, then, that we have, in addition to 
the pauses and phrases of melody, three different 
means of grouping together, the nearly related 
words, in sentences that are much involved. We 
will cite a few more examples of the use of these 
means. But first, a few words, as to the proper mode 
of. reading, what the grammarians call, 'parentheses, 
or, -parenthetical sentences. 

The old direction was, to read a parenthesis, much 
more rapidly, than the other parts of the sentence, 
and with less force of voice. Neither of these 
directions is necessary, nor, is either of them, even 
admissible, in most cases. If we lower the general 
pitch upon the parenthetical words, read them very 
monotonously, and make the proper pause, at the 
commencement, and, at the end of the parenthesis, 
we shall seldom fail to read it well, without any in- 
creased rapidity, or diminished force of voice. In a 
few cases, we may be obliged, in addition, to use the 
emphatic tie. 

The following sentence, from Satan's address to 



GROUPING OF SPEECH. 127 

the sun, may be taken as an example of grouping 
by a pause, in addition to the emphatic tie. 

"To thee I call, 
But with no friendly voice, and add the name, 

sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams, 

That bring to my remembrance, from what state 

1 fell, how glorious once, above thy sphere, 

Till pride, and, worse, ambition threw me down." 

In most, if not in all, of the editions of Milton, this 
last line is printed without any pause indicated be- 
tween icorse, and ambition; which makes the former 
appear as an adjective, qualifying the latter. But, 
this, makes, nonsense of the line. In this connec- 
tion, we might as well say, worse broomsticks. There 
is no such similarity between pride and ambition, as 
to warrant the connection of the adjective worse 
with the latter. The author's meaning would be 
fully expressed, by suppling the ellipsis in the line, 
in the following manner ; " Till pride, and, what is 
worse than pride, ambition, threw me down." This 
meaning may be conveyed, by making the pause, 
between icorse, and ambition, and giving an em- 
phasis of a falling third to worse, its radical being 
placed, at least a tone lower, than either and, or, am. 
The following passage from the second book of 
"Paradise Lost," describing the advance of Death, 
to meet Satan, upon the approach of the latter, to 
the Gates of Hell, is a good example of the influ- 
ence of pauses and melody, in grouping. 

" Satan was now at hand, and from his seat 
The monster moving onward came as fast, 
With horrid strides ;" 

In the punctuation, I have followed Cleveland's 
edition of Milton, which is, in general, quite as 



128 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

correct as any I have found. But, if the passage 
be read, according to this pointing, it must fail to 
give anything like a clear impression of the author's 
meaning. Satan, and his "rebellious crew", had 
been in consultation, on the shore of the burning 
lake, from which they had risen, as to the plan they 
should adopt, to improve their condition; and, 
Satan had volunteered to search out the "new 
created world", with the hope of finding "better 
abode" for himself, and them. For this purpose, 
he has "put on swift wings", and, towards the 
gates of Hell" has explored "his solitary flight." 
He has, at length, arrived within sight of the gates, 
and perceived Sin and Death, sitting on. either side 
of them. Death has perceived his approach, and 
determined to prevent his escape through those 
gates ; and, for this purpose rises (moves) from his 
seat, and advances to meet the fiend. The pas- 
sage, then, put into its most natural order, would 
read as follows: viz. Satan was now at hand; and, 
the monster, moving from his seat, came onward as fast, 
with horrid strides. By comparing this natural ar- 
rangement of the words, with the text, we find that 
the expletive phrase, moving from his seat, is, in the 
original, divided into two parts, by the interposition 
of the words, the monster, and, that the adverb, 
onward, is placed before, instead of after, the verb 
came, which it qualifies. But, whenever a word is 
interposed between others that are nearly related, it 
must be marked by a pause before, and another 
after, it, in order to mark the sense, clearly. And, 
when an adverb, is placed on the wrong side of the 






GROUPING OP SPEECH. 129 

verb, it qualifies, there should be a short pause be- 
tween them. 

If the observations, above, are correct, a pause, 
in the reading of the sentence must be made, at 
each dash, marked below. 

" Satan was now at hand — and — from his seat — 
The monster — moving — onward — came — as fast — 
With horrid strides — " 

But, the phrase, moving from Ms seat, being merely 
expletive, must be read with abatement of voice, 
when the sentence stands in its natural order ; and 
the same must be used upon those words, in their 
disjointed and inverted position, in the text. If 
the pauses be made, to correspond with the dashes, 
and this abatement be observed, we shall make the 
author's meaning explicit.* 

* It may not be improper, here, to observe that many sensible 
people, (who, without sufficient reflection, have adopted a kind of 
idea, that good reading, "comes by nature,") believe that we ought 
to be able to read any passage, well, at first sight. These will, of 
course, conclude that such an analysis, as the above, is inconsistent 
with their preconceived notions, and will, therefore, set it down, as 
entirely unnecessary. It would, indeed, be so, if their notions, re- 
specting good reading, were correct. But those, who have well re- 
flected upon the subject, have concluded that, in order to read well, 
we must first understand what ideas and emotions, the author wishes 
to convey ; and that in addition to this, we must have learned how to 
convey those ideas and emotions. In plain prose, in, which nothing 
but thought, is intended to be expressed, a person who has learned 
how to read, will not find much difficulty, in reading tolerably well, 
at first sight.. But, in many cases, this is, simply, impossible. There 
are passages in Shakspeare, Milton, and, perhaps, in other poets, 
which it would take these advocates of reading well, at first sight, 
hours, to ascertain the true meaning of; and then, tho chances 
would be much against their reading them well. 

13* 



130 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

In the following extract from Collins' "Ode on 
the Passions", in addition to the proper attention to 
the pauses, we are obliged to use the emphatic tie, 
upon the words, inspiring air, and, hunter's call, and, 
also, the abatement of voice, upon the phrase, that 
dale and thicket rung, which intervenes. Without this 
attention, it will appear that rung, was intended to 
be an active verb, and call, its object ; whereas, the 
author, intends hunter's call, to be in apposition with 
inspiring air; that is, meaning the same thing, 
under a different name. 

"When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hne, 
Her bow, across her shoulder, flung, 
Her buskins, gemmed, with morning dew, 
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket, rung, 
The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad, known." 

The following passage from Milton, with its inver- 
sions and expletives, would be a fine test for our 
good readers, at sight. It represents Satan and 
Death, immediately after their war of words. I 
give it first, with its proper punctuation, (very dif- 
ferent from Cleveland's) and then, in its most na- 
tural order. From a close comparison of these ver- 
sions, we shall perceive the difficulties that have to 
be overcome in the reading. 

" So spake the grisly terror; and, in shape, 
So speaking, and, so threat'ning, grew tenfold 
More dreadful and deformed. On the other side. 
Incensed with indignation, Satan stood, 
Unterrified ; and, like a comet, burned, 
That fires the length of Ophiucus huge, 
In the arctic sky, and, from his horrid hair, 
Shakes pestilence and war." 

The grisly terror so spake ; and, so speaking, and so 



GROUPING OF SPEECH. 131 

threatening, grew tenfold more dreadful and deformed, in 
sJiape — Satan, on the other side, incensed with indignation,, 
stood, untcrrified ; and burned, like a comet, that fires the 
huge length of Ophiucus, in the arctic sky, and, shakes 
pestilence and war, from his horrid hair. 

In this conversion of poetry into prose, I have 
used the same words as the author, and those only. 
The passage, in this form, cannot be well read, 
without considerable care ; but the difficulties, in 
the original, to a reader, at first sight, would be in- 
surmountable. 

Now, for the mode of reading, so as to render the 
author's meaning plain. In the first place, make 
the feeble cadence at terror, by giving the falling 
concrete of a tone, upon each of its syllables. 
Then, bring out, and, prominently, by the loud 
concrete ; because, its purpose is, to show the con- 
nection between the verbs, spake, and grew, both of 
them having the same subject. Next, use abate- 
ment of voice upon the expletive phrase, in shape. 
Then, a still lower pitch, upon the two remaining 
expletive phrases, between shape and grew. Raise 
the radical pitch of grew, to the same height, as 
that of and; and then make a full cadence, at de- 
formed. At the commencement of the second sen- 
tence, bring out the first phrase, with good force of 
voice, and upon a moderately high pitch. Then 
the expletive, incensed ivith indignation, must be read 
with decided abatement of voice. Eaise the pitch 
again upon Satan; make the falling ditone, upon 
stood, and the rising ditone, upon the syllable, un of 
the next word. Bring out the conjunction, and, as 
in the former case ; and then, the abatement of 



132 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

voice upon the expletive, like a comet. Give the em- 
phasis of a rising third, upon comet, to show its re- 
lation to that, from which it is separated, by burned ; 
make the rising ditone upon burned, and the falling 
ditone, upon that. The remainder of that line is 
plain, but the abatement of voice, must be adopted 
upon the expletive or adverbial phrase, in the arctic sky. 
Then, the conjunction and, must be made prominent, 
as in the previous cases, because it is the connecting 
link between fires and shakes, and the abatement of 
voice adopted upon the expletive, from his horrid 
hair. The pitch must rise again upon shakes, and, 
the regular triad of the cadence, be made at the end. 

It is presumed that the student, who has made 
himself acquainted with the different movements of 
the voice, as heretofore described, will find no dif- 
ficulty in comprehending the directions just given; 
and, if he understands them, they may aid him, in 
the analysis of other difficult passages. If he be at 
a loss, as to the meaning of any of the technical 
terms, used in those directions, his true course is, to 
turn back and review them. 

The following passage, from the second paragraph, 
first book, of "Paradise Lost," is another good ex- 
ample for analysis 

" Say, first, (for, Heaven hides nothing from thy view, 
Nor the deep tract of Hell) say first, what cause, 
Moved our grand parents, in that happy state, 
Favored, of Heaven, so highly, to fall off 
From their Creator ; and, transgress his will, 
For one restraint ; lords of the world besides." 

In Cleveland's edition, I find a semicolon after 
Hell, in the second line, as though that was the end 



GROUPING OF SPEECH. 133 

of the first clause of the compound sentence. If it 
be so considered, I can make nothing, of what in- 
tervenes, between the first two words, and their re- 
petition in the latter part of the second line. I con- 
sider those intervening words as a parenthesis, and 
have marked them accordingly. But, in this paren- 
thesis, grouping is necessary, to show that Hell, is a 
nominative to hides, as well as Heaven. Without 
proper grouping, it may appear that tract of Hell, is 
one of the objects of hides. To prevent this impres- 
sion, we make both Heaven and Hell, emphatic, and 
use the flight of the voice, upon all that follows 
Heaven, in the first line. The whole of the paren- 
thesis, must, however, be read with abatement of 
voice. 

In the subsequent parts of the sentence, the diffi- 
culties are not considerable. All between parents 
and to fall, being composed of two expletive phrases, 
must be read with abatement of voice, and the im- 
perfect cadence, upon restraint. The remaining 
phrase, being expletive, again, should be commenced 
as low, in pitch, as the vanish of the last syllable of 
restraint, and the regular triad of the cadence, be 
made at the end. 

It will be found of great advantage, by the stu- 
dent of elocution, frequently to employ himself, in 
such analysis of difficult passages, both in prose and 
poetry. He should, first, endeavor to make himself 
master of the author's meaning, and then, consider 
how he is to group, so as to render that meaning 
perfectly clear, to the hearer. Whoever adopts a 
practice of this kind, will find that one success, 
makes the next, more easy, until, at length, a great 



134 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

degree of expertness will be attained ; and this, will 
aid him greatly, in all his subsequent progress in the 
art of reading and speaking. If any one can read 
a difficult passage, well, at first sight, it will be he, 
who has thus drilled himself. 



SECTION XVI. 

OE THE VOCAL SIGNS OF EMOTIONS OR PASSIONS. 

As a kind of introduction to this section, it may 
be well to make a few observations upon the objects 
of oral language, in general. We may consider its 
first object or office, to be, to convey, to others, our 
plain thoughts ; and the second, to convey, in con- 
nection with our thoughts, the emotions or passions, 
by which we are influenced at the time of speaking. 

Language, in the first of these aspects, is purely 
conventional. Those, who speak the English lan- 
guage, use a certain set of sounds to communicate 
any idea; while the French, the Spanish, or the 
Germans will not only use different sounds from 
ours, to convey the same idea, or thought, but each, 
will use different sounds from all the others. 

The language of emotion or passion, does not 
thus vary, according to the nationality of the speaker. 
If you hear a person speaking, under the influence 
of a strong emotion, such as sorrow, anger, or scorn, 
you have no difficulty in recognizing that emotion, 
although you may not understand a word, that he 
utters. Some may suppose that we discover this, 
partly, by the eye ; and, doubtless, the view of the 



VOCAL SIGNS OF EMOTIONS OR TASSIONS. 13*5 

countenance, does, sometimes, aid us. But, try the 
experiment, without looking at the speaker, and you 
will still perceive what emotion or passion, influences 
him. If this be so, we must conclude that the 
language of emotion, is universal, or, co-extensive 
with our species. 

The language of emotion, being the same in all 
that speak, whatever words they may use to express 
the accompanying ideas, must depend upon, some- 
thing, besides elements and syllables. This some- 
thing, or, rather, these somethings, will be found 
among the functions of the voice already described ; 
and, the purpose of this section is, to explain, to a 
certain extent, how those functions are to be em- 
ployed, in order to produce results, corresponding 
with the various emotions of the mind. 

The advocates, for what they call Natural reading, 
would tell us, there is a much shorter, and easier 
method of learning, to give proper expression to the 
emotions of the author. They would advise us to 
enter into the spirit, and feelings, intended to be 
portrayed, and then give a natural expression to that 
spirit and those feelings. This is about the sub- 
stance of Archbishop Whately's directions. If he 
had told us how, we are to set to work, to enter into 
that spirit, and those emotions, he would have given 
us some information that might be useful. But, to 
direct us to do a thing, and give us no information 
as to how, it is to be done, seems very much like 
trifling with his readers. Suppose the person, who 
is about to read, to be in a very cheerful mood ; 
how is he, at once, to become sorrowful, scornful, 
melancholy, or wrathful ? And then, when he has 



136 PHLNCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

been taught this, how do we know, that the bad 
habits he may have contracted, from defects in in- 
struction, and the influence of example, may not 
mar the expression of emotions which he actually 
feels ? The truth is, all this talk about reading or 
speaking naturally, without having learned what 
nature dictates, is very much like what the vulgar, 
call humbug. We, also, are the advocates of natu- 
ral readiug and speaking ; but, we think it wise, to 
make the student acquainted with the means, that 
nature has provided, for the accomplishment of her 
ends ; rather than to tell him to use those means, 
without knowing what they are. 

But, Whately, is very sure that, if a person be 
taught to read on, what he calls, the artificial system, 
he will be constantly thinking of the manner, rather 
than the matter ; and, will consequently, fail to give 
satisfaction to his hearers. But, why does he think 
so ? He has taken great pains to instruct his readers, 
in the principles of Logic and Rhetoric. Would 
not the same objection lie, against either of these 
branches of knowledge ? But, he would answer, the 
student is to become so imbued with the principles 
of these arts, that he applies the rules without, really, 
thinking of them, at the time ; and yet, he could not 
violate them, without being, at once, conscious of the 
fact. We admit this to be true. And, we assert that 
the same will apply to him, who has thoroughly 
studied the principles and rules, of elocution. If 
he should violate them, his ear would make him 
sensible of the fact ; and yet, he may conform to 
them, without thinking of them, unless such viola- 
tion should occur. 



VOCAL SIGNS OF EMOTIONS OR PASSIONS. 137 

I have said that the language of emotion, appears 
to be universal. We are not, however, to under- 
stand, from this, that we can recognize every shade 
of emotion or passion, without comprehending the 
language in which it is conveyed. It is only some 
of the stronger emotions, such as are named in the 
third paragraph of this section, of which this can be 
safely affirmed ; because, as we shall see, very nearly 
the same movements of the voice, are used to express 
different emotions; the words only, distinguishing 
one from another. But if one set of words, with the 
appropriate modification of voice, evinces a certain 
emotion, in the English language, a true translation 
of those words into French, or German, would re- 
quire the same modification, in order to convey the 
same emotion. 

It is said, we may convey an emotion, by words 
uttered in the intonation of plain narrative. It is 
true we may tell a person, in this intonation, that we 
are very angry ; that we are sorry for his misfortune ; 
or, that we scorn him. He may, indeed, believe us, 
if he have strong confidence in our veracity ; but, 
still he would be more fully convinced, if the words 
were accompanied, by the proper intonation. Sup- 
pose a mother, should speak appropriate words of 
condolence, to a suffering child, in the intonation of 
ordinary conversation ; think you, that child would 
feel as much comforted, as though those words had 
been spoken, with the proper modification of voice? 
On the contrary, the child would rather feel that the 
words of sorrow, were only a mere pretence. The 
fact is, that each emotion of the mind has an appro- 
priate modification, for its expression ; and without 



138 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

that modification, the words fall very far short of the 
object. 

Until the publication of Bush's " Philosophy of 
the Human Voice", no writer upon Elocution, had 
sufficiently investigated the subject, to enable him to 
give an intelligible account of the vocal signs of the 
passions. Mr. Walker, indeed, in his elaborate work 
upon reading and speaking, has alluded to the sub- 
ject ; but, he contents himself, with attempting to 
tell us what it is not, rather than what it is, that gives 
passionate expression. Where he first alludes to the 
subject, he says, 

" The truth is, the expression of passion or emo- 
tion, consists in giving a distinct and specific quality 
to the sounds we use, rather than in increasing or 
diminishing their quantity, or in giving this quantity 
any local direction." 

Again later in his work, he says, 

" It now remains to say something of the passions 
and emotions of the speaker. These are entirely in- 
dependent on the modulation of the voice, though 
often confounded with it: for modulation relates 
only to speaking loudly or softly, in a high or low 
key, while the tones of the passions or emotions, 
mean only that quality of sound that indicates the 
feelings of the speaker, without reference to the 
pitch, or loudness of the voice." 

Let us try to discover what is the substance of this 
information. In the first place, "the expression of 
passion or emotion," does not consist "in increasing 
or diminishing the quantity" of the sounds we utter, 
nor "in giving this quantity any local direction." 
In other words, in the expression of any particular 



VOCAL SIGNS OF EMOTIONS OR PASSIONS. 139 

passion, the quantity of our syllables, may be, either 
long or short, and the time either quick or slow, pro- 
vided we use that unknown, but "specific quality," 
to which he alludes, but of which he gives no intel- 
ligible account. 

In the second extract, he tells us, the passions, 
"are entirely independent on (of) the modulation 
of the voice." (I suppose he means that the expres- 
sion of the passions is independent.) This, is 
telling us what does not, in his estimation, constitute 
the expression of the passions ; and, so far, we can 
comprehend his meaning. The correctness of that 
opinion, we leave out of the question, for the pre- 
sent. Then, he comes to the point ; and, undertakes 
to tell us what does constitute the tones (expressions) 
of the passions. Let us study it well. " The tones 
of the passions or emotions, mean only that quality 
of sound, that indicates the feelings of the speaker." 
But feelings, as here used, mean the same as passions 
or emotions. The sentence may, then, read, " The 
tones of the passions or emotions, mean only that 
quality of sound that indicates the passions or emo- 
tions of the speaker." Or, in other words, to take 
from the sentence all redundant words (and brevity, 
is a virtue, in writing) we may reduce the substance 
of the sentence to this ; viz. " The tones of the pas- 
sions, mean only the tones of the passions." 
In another work, the same writer says, 
" As to the tones of the passions, which are so 
many and so various, these, in the opinion of one 
of the best judges in the kingdom, are qualities of 
sound occasioned by certain vibrations of the organs 



140 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

of speech, independent on high, low, loud, soft, quick, 
slow, forcible or feeble." 

He, thus, on the authority of one of the best judges 
in the kingdom (England) discards those functions 
of the voice, which must enter into every expression 
of passion, and gravely tells us " tones of the passions 
depend upon certain vibrations of the voice." If they 
depend upon " certain vibrations," one would think, 
he ought to have told us something more, about these 
mysterious agencies, so that we might learn how to 
use them. But, the- fact is, he felt himself obliged 
to say something, upon so important a branch of Elo- 
cution, and, being profoundly ignorant, of the matter 
in hand, he has palmed off nonsense, upon us. 

We shall find nothing, in any of the other writers 
upon Elocution, prior to Rush, that is more definite. 
None of them, indeed, had sufficient knowledge of 
the functions of the voice, to write intelligibly upon 
the intonations of the passions. 

As Mr. Walker says, the passions or emotions of 
the mind, are both numerous and various ; and yet 
we have, comparatively, few distinct movements of 
the voice, by which to express them. Among these, 
the principal, are those which Walker excludes, in 
the extracts above ; viz. Quality, Force, Pitch, and 
Time. These, as we have seen, in the earlier parts 
of this essay, have several subdivisions; but, still 
these, with Aspiration, Tremor and the Guttural 
Vibrations added, fall far short of the number of 
the emotions of the human mind. But, by different 
combinations of these few functions of the voice, we 
are able to effect our purpose ; and, the student is to 
recollect that they are always used in combination. 






VOCAL SIGNS OP EMOTIONS OR PASSIONS. 141 

Before we enter regularly upon the peculiarities, 
of the universal language of emotion, spoken of in 
the third paragraph of this section, let me say a few- 
words, as to which of the movements of the voice, 
we are to use in the communication of plain, unim- 
passioned thoughts, or ideas. Under this head, may 
be comprised plain Narrative and Description, Un- 
impassioned Argument, and Demonstration ; and, 
perhaps, some other subdivisions of oral language. 
For the proper delivery of any of these, the Diatonic 
melody (in which every syllable has its radical and 
vanish through one tone, of the scale, and each dis- 
crete skip, between the syllable is through the same 
interval) is the only allowable intonation. In most 
cases, the general pitch of the voice, should be a 
medium one, and the phrase of the Monotone, and 
the Alternate phrase, should be so intermingled as 
to be agreeable to the ear. The articulation of every 
syllable, in this, as in all other kinds of reading and 
speaking, should be perfectly distinct, so that the 
hearer, shall never be in doubt, respecting any word 
or syllable that is spoken. When an emphasis is 
given, it should always be by moderate radical stress, 
or increased quantity, upon the accented syllable, 
with the rising or falling concrete of a third. If all 
these, be well executed, and the pauses, be properly 
made, the reading or speaking cannot fail to be 
good, so far as the manner, is concerned. The 
matter, must be left to the logician, grammarian, 
and rhetorician. The elocutionist, has nothing to 
do with that. It is scarcely necessary to add, that 
every good reader, or speaker, will so regulate the 
general loudness or force, of what he utters, as to 

14* 



142 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

make every syllable distinct, to the most distant 
persons in his audience. This, should always be 
attended to, whether in unimpassioned, or pas- 
sionate, delivery. 

We will now proceed to the consideration of pas- 
sionate expression. In doing this, I shall take up 
the different modifications of the voice, as previously 
described, and, under each, enumerate some of the 
principal emotions, in the expression of which, it is 
required. When we have finished this list, I will 
give some examples of their combination, in the 
expression of the stronger emotions. 

Force, or Loudness of Voice. 

As has just been said, when a speaker is address- 
ing a large audience, he must use considerable 
force, in order to be understood by all, even in plain 
narrative or description. But there are several emo- 
tions of the mind, that naturally assume great force 
or loudness, for their expression, however small the 
audience may be. Of this kind, are anger, rage, 
horror \ and exultation. 



Feebleness of Voice. 

As there are some emotions that naturally affect 
great loudness, in their expression, so there are 
many that, as naturally, assume decided feebleness 
of voice. Of this description, are pity, grief, modesty, 
shame, and apathy. 

Quickness of Voice. 

Thts includes, as a matter of course, short quan- 
tity, upon the syllables generally, as well as short 






VOCAL SIGNS OF EMOTIONS OR PASSIONS. 143 

pauses. There are various emotions which require 
this. Among these, are anger, rage, impatience, and 
mirth. 

Slowness of Voice. 

Slowness of voice, when properly applied, neces- 
sarily includes long quantity, upon such syllables as 
will bear it. Some persons, indeed, who instinc- 
tively perceive, that certain sentiments require slow 
time, for their expression, but, who have never 
learned how to give long quantity to syllables, with- 
out a drawl, endeavor to compromise the matter, 
by giving short quantity and, making long pauses. 
This is disagreeable to the hearers, and, always, 
fails of its object. Among the emotions requiring 
slowness of voice, are sorrow, grief, contrition, respect, 
and veneration. 

Quality of Voice. 

We will not, here, enumerate, again, all the dif- 
ferent qualities or kinds of voice, in separate divi- 
sions ; but simply name each, with one or more 
emotions, which require it. Harshness, is assumed 
by anger and imperiousness ; Smoothness, by grief, 
modesty and love; the "Whisper, by secrecy; the 
Falsette, is heard in the whine of peevishness, and, 
in the scream of terror ; and, the Orotund, is most 
appropriate in the expression of all sentiments of 
dignity and grandeur. 

The Radical Stress. 

Radical stress is used, in a moderate form, upon 
the syllables generally, in the expression of simple 
1 hough ts or ideas ; it is often used in great intensity, 



144 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

in giving emphasis to syllables of the first class; 
and, in the expression of some of the passions, it is 
used, in full force, upon each syllable in its turn. 
Among these, are anger, rage, and excessive mirth. 

The Median Stress. 

The emotions, which require the fulness of the 
median stress, for their proper expression, are 
widely different from those to which the radical 
stress is appropriate. They all affect slow time, and 
long quantity, upon such syllables, as will bear ex- 
tension. They are, generally such as require the 
equal wave of the semitone, second, or third. 
Among them, may be numbered, awe, respect, reve- 
rence, supplication, solemnity, joy, and grief. 

The Thorough Stress. 

Dr. Rush says of the thorough stress, it " may be 
used for some particular purpose of forcible em- 
phasis, especially when applied to short quantities. 
Its general and more remarkable character, on a long 
quantity, is that of uncouth and rustic coarseness." In 
this sentiment, I find myself unable to agree with 
him. Unless I am much mistaken, the best of 
speakers, the most perfect gentlemen, and the most 
dignified of men, do use it, not only for emphasis, 
upon short quantities, but upon whole sentences, 
consisting of both short, and long quantities. I do 
not believe it possible, for any man, whether it be 
the rustic, or the most refined of gentlemen, to give 
appropriate expression to Nathan's reply to David, 
u Thou art the man," without using the thorough 
stress upon every word. I hold that no parent or 



VOCAL SIGNS OP EMOTIONS OR PASSIONS. 145 

teacher, can seriously admonish a child, without 
using the same stress, upon the words, he utters. 
The difference between serious admonition and 
scolding, is that the first uses the thorough stress, 
with but little variety in the melody; and the 
second, deals in strong radical stress, with frequent 
and wide discrete intervals. The worda^ may be the 
same. I cannot read Satan's Address to Death, at 
the Gates of Hell, so as to correspond with the 
"disdainful look," without the thorough stress, 
through the whole ; neither can I, without it, read 
the scornful part of Death's reply. The thorough 
stress, then, is a necessary element, in the expression 
of serious admonition, disdain, hatred, and scorn; and 
to these, we may add dignified command, and 
threatening. I can conceive of no way of doing 
justice to the reading of Satan's dark threat, in the 
following lines, without using this form of stress. 

"Evil, be thou my good ; by thee, at least 
Divided empire, -with heaven's king, I hold. 
By thee, and more than half, perhaps, will reign ; 
As man, ere long, and this new world, shall know." 

The threat of vengeance against man, contained 
in the last line, can only be expressed, so as to 
satisfy me, by giving slow time, great monotony, 
and the thorough stress on every syllable, with 
strong force, upon the last. 

The Vanishing Stress. 

This mode of giving force to syllables, is seldom 
used, except upon emphatic words, and, always indi- 
cates impatience. A good example of this, is found 
in the tent scene between Brutus and Cassius. 



146 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

Brutus has said to Cassius, "And chastisement dot! 
therefore hide its head," applying the expression t> 
the conduct of Cassius, who was his equal in con 
mand. Cassius, in the height of angry impatienc 
mingled with astonishment, merely repeats the 
word "Chastisement," but, of course, with an in- 
tonation to indicate the two feelings, above named. 
The impatience, being indicated, by the vanishing 
stress, and the astonishment, by aspiration. We have 
another good example of this stress, in the follow- 
ing exclamation of Cassius in the same scene. 

"Ye Gods! ye Gods! must I endure all this?" 

Pitch of the Voice. 

When we speak of the pitch of the voice, as em- 
ployed in reading a sentence, a paragraph, or whole 
discourse, we mean the average height of the radi- 
cals of all the syllables. Every good reader, requires 
the compass of at least, an octave, between the 
lowest, and highest radicals of the syllables, which 
he may be called upon to utter. The average pitch, 
is sometimes called the key, upon which a person 
reads, or speaks. It will be sufficient for our pur- 
pose, if we divide the compass of any person's voice 
into three keys ; viz. ; The High, the Low, and the 
Medium, keys. Suppose a person to have the com- 
pass, of exactly an octave. Then, if we speak of his 
high key, we mean that the average of his radicals, 
is about midway, between the fifth, and the octave, 
of his scale. In the medium key, the average would 
be about the fifth note ; (a little below) and his low 
about the third note of his scale. Of course, in what- 



VOCAL SIGNS OF EMOTIONS OR PASSIONS. 147 

ever key he speaks, some of his radicals will be 
below, and some above that key. 

The key upon which any sentence, paragraph, or 
discourse, should be read, or spoken, depends upon 
the sentiments it contains. If the sentiment, or emo- 
tion, changes, the key must change also, or the read- 
ing or speaking, will lose one of its most important 
qualities. It is possible for a person of very limited 
compass of voice, to read one passage well, and yet 
utterly fail to do justice to another, that requires 
a lower or higher key. Hence, the importance of 
practice, for extending the compass of the voice. If 
we acquire the compass of two octaves, we have a 
decided advantage, in speech, over those who can 
command only one, or less than one. 

High Key. 

The sentiments, emotions, and passions, requiring 
a high key for their proper expression, are numerous, 
and very different. Among them, may be enume- 
rated, cheerfulness, peevishness, joy, anger, mirth, exulta- 
tion, railery, and facetiousness. 

Medium Key. 

The medium pitch of the voice may be considered 
as belonging peculiarly to plain narrative and de- 
scription, in which simple thought without emotion, 
is intended to be communicated. But, if, in the 
course of the narrative or description, anything 
more lively, than the general tenor of the discourse, 
occurs, the key must rise, as soon as that change 
commences. On the contrary, if the narrative or 



148 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

description becomes more grave or serious, the key 
must be lowered. 

Low Key. 

As the emotions or passions, we may have to ex- 
press, are very numerous, and the number of keys 
have been limited to three, it is not to be expected 
that we should enumerate all that require any one 
of these keys. The object is, to call the attention 
of the student, to the necessity of adopting different 
keys, to name a few sentiments, under each, and to 
leave the rest, to the exercise of his observation and 
judgment. 

Among the emotions requiring a low key, for their 
proper expression, we may enumerate, sorrow, reve- 
rence, melancholy, contrition, hatred, scorn, and fear. 

Rising Semitone and Tone. 

Neither of these concrete intervals, is much used, 
in its simple state, to express passion or emotion ; in 
fact, we may say, that the simple rise of a tone, is 
never, properly, used, to express anything, but un- 
impassioned thought. The simple rise of the semi- 
tone, may be used, to express sorrow, pity, repining, 
peevishness, &c, but, almost every such, emotion, is 
much better expressed, by the wave of the semitone. 
The wave of the tone or second is also used to ex- 
press some emotions of the mind, particularly of the 
more grave or solemn description. "We shall notice 
both of these waves presently. 

Rising Third, Fifth and Octave. 
These concrete intervals are all used as has been 



VOCAL SIGNS OF EMOTIONS OR PASSIONS. 149 

said before, for the purposes of interrogation, and 
emphasis. "When applied to questions of the first 
and second class, the form is that of a simple rise, 
through the assigned interval ; but, when used for 
emphatic distinction, in other than interrogative sen- 
tences, the voice, after having risen through that 
interval, turns its course and makes a slight falling 
concrete. The rising third is used for the simplest 
form of unimpassioned interrogation or emphasis. 
The fifth and octave always carry with them the ex- 
pression of something more than mere thought. The 
rising fifth, in interrogation, always implies earnest- 
ness or surprise. The rising octave, carries with it, 
the expression of anger or astonishment When, with 
the rising fifth or octave, we mingle aspiration, or 
the guttural vibration, the sentiments which those 
intervals express, in their purely vocal form, are car- 
ried to a high degree of intensity. Earnestness, by 
aspiration, is converted into apprehension or fear ; and 
anger, by the guttural vibration, is converted into 
concentrated wrath or Iiatred, according as we use the 
radical, or the thorough, stress. 

The Downward Third, Fifth and Octave. 

The rising third, fifth, and octave, being used in 
asking questions, the downward concretes of the 
same intervals, are employed in answering those 
questions. Take, for instance, the questions, put, 
by Paul, to Agrippa ; viz. " King Agrippa, believest 
thou the prophets ?" This question would be asked, 
by giving a rising third, upon every syllable. Paul 
answers this, himself, "I know that thou believest." 
In this answer, the downward third, should be used 

15 



150 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

upon the emphatic word, know; and the falling tone, 
upon the subsequent syllables. If Agrippa had an- 
swered, himself, he would either have used the down- 
ward third, upon the single syllable, "Yes," or the 
same downward interval, upon the emphatic, do, in 
the following form of answer, " I do believe them." 
When questions are asked with the rising fifth or 
octave, the same falling interval, should be used in 
the answer. 

These downward intervals are emphatically the 
signs of positiveness, command, surprise, astonishment, 
&c. When aspiration or the guttural vibration, is 
mingled with these falling intervals, the emotions 
which they convey, in their simplest state, are, gene- 
rally, increased in intensity. 

The Wave of the Semitone. 

It has been said that the semitone, is an essential 
ingredient, in the expression of all the plaintive 
emotions of the mind. But, in the more dignified 
expressions of these emotions, the semitone always 
takes the form of the wave, upon all the syllables, 
that will admit sufficient extension, in quantity. In 
this form it is the appropriate symbol of sorrow, grief, 
contrition, condolence, pity, fondness, supplication, &c. 

The Wave of the Second. 

This movement of the voice, cannot be used to 
express any of the stronger passions or emotions ; 
but, it is of great importance, in communicating 
to narrative or description, the sentiments of dignity 
and grandeur. These require long quantity, on the 
third class of syllables ; and, it is scarcely possible, 



VOCAL SIGNS OF EMOTIONS OR PASSIONS. 151 

to give such long quantity, upon the simple rise or 
fall of a single tone, (as in the plain diatonic 
melody) without running into a disagreeable drawl. 
But, when we use the wave of second, upon such syl- 
lables, we may give double the quantity, that we 
can upon a simple rise or fall, through the same 
interval. 

It would be impossible to give sufficient dignity, 
to many of the narrative or descriptive passages, in 
the Scriptures, without the use of this movement of 
the voice. The same may be said of many parts 
of Shakspeare and Milton. Take the following, 
from the latter, which requires it, upon every long 
syllable. 

"So frowned the mighty combatants, that hell 
Grew darker, at their frown}." 

I have marked in italics, the syllables that require 
the wave of the second with the longest quantity 
practicable, without a drawl. I have marked dark, 
for a downward concrete, for the purpose of em- 
phasis; but this is not to be the simple falling 
slide; that would be inconsistent with the general 
melody. A wave must be used upon that syllable, 
as well as upon the others, the second constituent 
falling through a third. The same movement is 
required upon frown, for the purpose of making 
the cadence. 

The student should be reminded, that the waves 
of the semitone and second, just referred to, are the 
direct waves, the first constituent being a rising con- 
crete. The inverted wave, is seldom employed, 
except in the unequal form, with the second consti- 
tuent, greater than the first. 



152 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

The Waves of the TJiird, Fifth and Octave. 

In speaking of the melody of speech, in Section 
8th, page 64, I alluded to the Tritonic Melody, in 
which each syllable, rises through two tones, or a 
third. I did not then say, but may do so now, that 
when this melody is used, the long syllables take 
the wave of the third, which, admitting still longer 
quantity, than the wave of the second, gives a very 
marked quality to the expression. It is always 
used to express the most glowing sentiments of 
pleasure or praise. To give proper expression to 
most of Adam and Eve's Morning Hymn, this wave 
of the third is essential. The following sentence, 
for instance, if read with the wave of the second, 
will appear tame and lifeless, compared with the 
glowing language of the author. 

" Speak ye, who best can tell, ye sons of light, 
Angels, for ye behold him ; and, with songs 
And choral symphonies, day without night, 
Circle his throne, rejoicing." 

In Cowper's anticipation of the Millennium, too, 
there are passages which I cannot read, without 
using the Tritonic Melody, with the wave of the 
third upon the long syllables. The wave of the 
third is used, too, for emphatic distinction upon 
long syllables, where the wave of the second, is used, 
as a current melody. 

The waves of the fifth and octave, are used only 
for the purpose of emphasis. Under the head of 
emphasis, an example was given of the use of the 
wave of the fifth for emphatic distinction, upon the 
personal pronoun, I, in the exultation of Death 



VOCAL SIGNS OF EMOTIONS OR PASSIONS. 153 

over Satan. We might use the wave of the octave, 
instead of that of the fifth ; and this would heighten 
the same expression. 

The Unequal Waves. 

The unequal waves, with their second constituent 
passing through a greater interval than the first, 
give very marked expression to speech. In some 
of their varied forms, they give the expressions of 
railery, sarcasm, disdain, scorn, contempt, and other 
kindred emotions. In much of the address of 
Gabriel, to Satan, commencing with the line " Oh 
loss of one, in Heaven, to judge of wise," the un- 
equal wave, upon a high key, is necessaiy, upon the 
long syllables, to give, properly, the sarcastic ex- 
pression, which the words are intended to convey. 
In the reply of Satan to this insulting speech of 
Gabriel, the following words occur ; 

" Though, for possession, put to try once more, 
What thou and thy gay legions, dare against ; 
Whose easier business were to serve their Lord, 
High up in Heaven ; with songs to hymn his throne ; 
And, practised distances to cringe-, not fight." 

The highly contemptuous expression, contained in 
the last three lines, can only be given by the un- 
equal waves, upon a comparatively low key. This 
will be particularly marked upon the emphatic 
words, easier, Lord, throne, and cringe. Fight, is also 
an emphatic word, but its time is too short to admit 
of the full expression of the unequal wave ; and it is 
therefore impossible, to give, a satisfactory close to 
the sentence. 

15* 



154 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

The Aspiration, 

Of all the means of expressing emotion, perhaps 
there is none more varied in its application. In its 
pure form, the whisper, it is used to indicate secrecy. 
When mingled with the vocality of the tonics and 
subtonics, in the diatonic melody, it indicates great 
earnestness, in narrative, or description. When 
used, upon the higher intervals, it indicates sur- 
prise, wonder, astonishment, fear, or horror. When 
used upon the unequal waves it adds intensity to 
the expression of sneer, contempt, and scorn. 

The Tremor. 

The tremor is another very important means of 
heightening the expression of emotions, indicated 
by other movements of the voice. It has, already, 
been said, that the tremor of the semitone, upon a 
single tonic element, constitutes crying; and, that 
the wave of the semitone is the proper movement, 
when applied to words, for expressing all plaintive 
emotions. If the tremor be added to this wave of 
the semitone, it gives an intensity to the expression 
of these emotions, far greater than that wave alone 
can give them. Sorrow, contrition, supplication, &c. by 
these combined elements, are carried to their great- 
est extent. Their effect may be well illustrated in 
the reading of Eve's supplicating appeal to Adam, 
in the tenth book of Paradise Lost, commencing 
with the words, "Forsake me not thus, Adam !" 

The tremor on the tone, third, fifth and octave, 
indicate mirth, derision, exultation, &c. It is true, the 
tremor, upon the tone, amounts only, to a kind of 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING*. 155 

sardonic chuckle, such as Falstaff might indulge in, 
when soliloquizing upon his ragged regiment, and, 
the means, by which he had raised it. But, upon 
the higher intervals its effect is wonderfully cheer- 
ing and exhilarating. Let the student read the 
following extract from the address of Henry Vth, 
to his troops, at Harfleur ; giving it, all the spright- 
liness, possible, without using the tremor; then, 
apply that movement, to the words in italics, and 
he will find the effect to be greatly improved. 

" And you, good yeomen, 
Whose limbs, were made in England, show us here, 
The mettle of your pasture." 

The Guttural Vibration. 

We have seen that, hatred may be expressed by a 
low pitch and the thorough stress ; that disdain, con- 
tempt, scorn, &c. are expressed by the unequal waves ; 
that, these expressions may be heightened by the 
use of the aspiration ; but, if we wish to carry any 
one of them, to its greatest intensity, we must add, 
to the other means, the harsh guttural vibration. 



section xvn. 

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS UPON READING AND SPEAKING. 

I have now said, what I deem necessary, of the 
elements of vocal delivery, and endeavored to de- 
scribe each, as clearly as possible. I am aware, that 
the student may find it difficult, to understand some 
of them, without an oral instructor. Such aid is 



156 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION.. 

certainly desirable, when it can be obtained ; but, 
it is not indispensable. Some persons, have managed 
to read, and understand, Dr. Rush's much more ela- 
borate work, upon the subject. Perseverance, then, 
will insure success, in the study of this manual, to 
*very one, of ordinary intelligence, even without an 
oral instructor. But, it is intended rather as a text- 
book, upon which the teacher may base his oral in- 
struction. Elocution may be taught, without any 
such assistant ; but, the labor required, will be much 
greater, and the time, much extended. Any branch 
of Mathematics, may be taught, without the assist- 
ance of a text-book ; but, the progress of the pupil 
would, in that case be much impeded, for want of 
written definitions and demonstrations, to aid his 
memory. The text-book, is not less important, to 
the student in Elocution. The teacher may give 
him, orally, the meaning of the various terms, neces- 
sarily employed ; but, without many repetitions, 
those meanings, will not become fixed in his me- 
mory, so as to be applied in practice. Let me urge 
it then upon every one, who would learn to read 
and speak well, or who would be able to criticise, 
intelligently, the performances of others, never to 
cease his efforts, until he shall have made himself 
thoroughly master, of all that is contained in the 
preceding sections. ISTor should he content himself, 
with having the facts impressed upon his mind. He 
should exercise his voice, upon all the movements 
described, until he becomes so far master of each, 
as to be able to execute any one of them, whenever 
his judgment shall tell him, it is required. 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 157 

Articulation. 

In reading and speaking, of whatever character, 
the first object should be, to be perfectly distinct, in 
the Articulation of every syllable you utter. I have 
said nearly the same thing, before ; but, it is so im- 
portant, that it cannot be too strongly impressed 
upon the mind. Almost all readers and speakers are 
deficient, in this respect, to a greater or less extent. 
It is much neglected by the greater number of 
teachers, in our primary schools ; and, the example 
of parents, generally, is not calculated to remedy 
the defects, of school education. Indeed, defective 
articulation, is so common, that it attracts but little 
attention, unless by comparison, with a few rare in- 
stances of clear and good delivery. Most persons, 
whose attention has not been called to the subject, 
would hear the following stanzas read with the arti- 
culation indicated, without particularly noticing the 
defects ; provided the reading, in other respects is 
tolerable. 

"On Lm-dn, when the sun wz low, 
All bloodZwss lay the untrodww snow, 
An darkwa winter wz the flow 
Uv Iser rolling rapidly. 

"But lAndn sawtm other sight, 
When the drumbeat ut dead uv night, 
Commanding fires uv death tolight, 
The darkness uv her scenery." 

I have more than once read these lines, as written 
above, to an intelligent class, after having requested 
them to watch for errors, without their noticing 
more than one or two of the defects. 



158 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

Defects in articulation, are much more common, 
upon such words as, and, as, of and for, than upon 
others that seem more important; hut, they are not 
confined to these. The unaccented syllables of 
longer words, are frequently miscalled ; of this, we 
have &ve examples, in the eight lines just quoted. 
Each syllable, has its own proper sound, when pro- 
nounced singly ; and, that sound, should always be 
given to it, whether important or unimportant, 
accented or unaccented. It should not, indeed, be 
always pronounced with the same loudness; but, 
the elementary sounds should remain unchanged. 

A teacher of reading, who performs his whole 
duty, will never let defective articulation pass, with- 
out correction. If taken early, it need not give 
much trouble ; but, each day, week, month, and 
year, the habit of indistinctness, if not corrected, 
becomes more fixed, and the difficulty in eradi- 
cating it, is greatly increased. 

Key, 

At the same time, that the student is endeavoring, 
to acquire a perfectly distinct articulation, he should 
turn his attention, to the compass of his voice, in 
pitch. It has already been said, that, every person 
who would read and speak well, ought to have the 
compass of, at least, an octave. But, without special 
practice, with reference to this, there are few that 
possess it. There are some, who can, by strong 
effort, run up or down a concrete octave ; but, who, 
in reading and speaking, scarcely ever vary their 
pitch, to the amount of more than three tones. In 
some, this limited range, is upon a very high key; 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKINU. 150 

in others, upon a medium one ; and, in a few, upon 
a very low key. Each of these, will be useful in the 
expression of certain sentiments ; but, entirely out 
of place, in the expression of others. Hence, it is 
necessary, for every reader, to have perfect com- 
mand of such a range of pitch, as the various emo- 
tions, may require. 

A part of the practice, for extending the range 
of pitch, may be, upon the tonic elements, by repeat- 
ing them over, in succession, upon the highest key 
the pupil can command, short of the Falsette. The 
effort should be, in each successive repetition of 
them, to raise the pitch a little higher ; but without 
allowing the voice to break into the falsette. Then, 
let him try them, upon the lowest key, which he has 
at command ; and, at each repetition, endeavor to 
go still lower than the former. Let him try these 
experiments, at first, with a very moderate degree 
of force ; and then, after having succeeded in ex- 
tending his pitch, perceptibly, increase the force of 
his voice, both upon the high and the low key. 
When the power of using both of these keys, with 
the requisite force is attained, the command of the 
middle, or medium key, will be easily acquired. 

Having thus acquired considerable command of 
pitch, let the student, commence practice upon 
short passages, which require the respective keys, 
for their appropriate expression. For the highest 
key, the commencement of the "Kazor Seller," and, 
"The Wife that ruled her Husband," (both to be 
found in the second part) are well adapted. For the 
lowest key, let him take the address of Satan to 
Death, at the gates of Hell, and, the close of " Satan's 



160 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

Soliloquy," quoted on page 145 ; as an example of the 
expression, given by the thorough stress. For the 
medium key, almost any plain, unimpassioned nar- 
rative or description, will answer the purpose. In 
prose, for a key a little above the medium, let him 
take the commencement of the extract from Gold- 
smith, entitled "Happiness of Temper," or, in 
poetry, Franklin's playful essay, upon the different 
kinds of Paper. For the medium key, he may 
practice upon the first stanza of Byron's "Address 
to the Oceau," the first three or four stanzas 
of the "Sailor Boy's Dream," and other pieces 
of a similar description. 

Time and Quantity. 

It is as necessary, in reading and speaking, to 
vary the rate of utterance, according to the nature 
of the sentiments we are delivering, as it is, to vary 
the key. The student may suppose that, admitting 
this to be true, it would be an easy thing, for him 
to read, at any rate, that the sentiments he is de- 
livering, may require. In practice, however, he will 
find himself mistaken, unless, he shall have been, 
previously, better drilled, than falls to the lot of 
most of the pupils, in our schools and colleges. 
Many of them, can go on, with sufficient rapidity, 
for any purpose of expression ; but, generally, we 
shall find that their articulation, when reading thus 
rapidly, is very imperfect. This must be avoided ; 
and, the art of reading rapidly, and, at the same 
time, articulating well, like every other, requires to 
be learned, by practice. Most persons, could soon 
learn to read with sufficient slowness, for any pur- 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 161 

pose of expression, if it were allowable, to take up 
the greater portion of the time in pausing ; and this, 
is the mode of slow reading and speaking, that some 
persons adopt ; but, it does not answer the purpose. 
It is much more obnoxious to criticism, than rapid 
utterance, where a more deliberate rate, is required. 
There is a species of affectation about it, that seems 
to say to the hearers, " there is so much profundity, 
in what I am uttering, that I must give you time to 
digest every phrase, as I proceed." The pauses, in 
slow utterance, should be longer, than in that, which 
is more rapid ; but, the extension of time must be 
made up, principally, by long quantity upon all the 
syllables that will bear it. And, the power of 
giving extended quantity, without a drawl, requires 
practice for its acquisition. This practice should 
be, first, upon the long tonic elements, and syllables 
composed of long tonics and subtonics ; and then, 
upon long syllables of the third class, in reading, 
requiring slow time. The following passage, from 
Collins' "Ode on the Passions," is well adapted to 
the purpose. The syllables, best fitted for long 
quantity, are in italics. 

"With eyes upraised, as one inspired, 
Pale Melancholy sat, retired; 
And, from her wild sequestered seat, 
In notes, by distance, made more sweet, 
Poured, through ihe mellow horn, her pensive soul. 
And, dashing soft, from rocks, around, 
Bubbling runnels, joined the sound. 
Through glades and glooms, the mingled measure, stole; 
Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, 
Round, a holy calm diffusing, 
Love of peace and lonely 7nusing, 
In hollow 7nurmurs, died away." 
16 



162 PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 

Most of the syllables, not marked, should have 
some extension of time ; but, those in italics, should 
be most conspicuous. But few passages, of the 
same length, afford so many syllables that bear long 
quantity. The student will find several stanzas, in 
" Gray's Elegy," well adapted to his purpose. 

For practice in rapid reading the student may 
take the passages referred to, on page 159, as suit- 
able for practice upon a high key. 

Melody. 

Many readers and speakers, are very deficient, in 
power to vary the melody, of what they read, as the 
sentiments require. In light narrative and descrip- 
tion, and in facetious pieces, the alternate phrase 
should prevail; and, in glowing description, the 
rising and falling tritone, should be introduced fre- 
quently. On the other hand, in expressing senti- 
ments of a grave, or serious character, the phrase of 
the monotone, with the occasional use of the rising 
and falling ditone, are alone appropriate, to the 
almost entire exclusion, of the alternate phrase, and 
the rising and falling tritone; the latter, being used 
at the cadence, only. As an example of the varied 
melody the learner may take the following extract 
from Goldsmith. 

"Of all the men, I ever read of, the famous Cardinal de Retz, pos- 
sessed this happiness of temper, in the highest degree. As he was a 
man of gallantry, and despised all, that wore the pedantic appear- 
ance, of philosophy, wherever pleasure, was to be sold, he, was gene- 
rally foremost, to raise the auction. Being a universal admirer of the 
fair sex, when he found one lady, cruel, he, generally, fell in love 
with another, from whom he expected a more favorable reception. 
If she, too, rejected his addresses, he never thought, of retiring into 






OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 163 

deserts, or, pining in hopeless distress ; he persuaded himself, that, 
instead of loving tho lady, he had only fancied, that he loved her ; 
and so, all was well again." 

The alternate phrase should prevail, throughout 
this extract, accompanied by a high key, and short 
quantity. 

There are few better examples of the prevalence 
of the monotone, accompanied by a low key, and 
slow time, than Henry IV's, soliloquy on sleep; 
from which, the following lines, are extracted. 

"Canst thou, partial Sleep, give thy repose, 
To the wet sea-boy, in an hour so rude, 
And, in the calmest, and the stillest night, 
With all appliances and means, to boot, 
Deny it to a king ? Then, happy, lowly clown. 
Uneasy, lies the head, that wears a crown." 

He who would read the above extracts, upon the 
same key, and with the same quantity, and the same 
phrases of melody, we might listen to, with some 
degree of patience, in consequence of the respect, 
we had for him \ but, without some strong induce- 
ment to a contrary course, we should be inclined to 
remove, beyond the extent of his voice. And, yet, 
examples of such reading, with other faults com- 
bined, are not rare, even in persons who are, in 
general, well informed. 

Where the phrase of the monotone prevails, the 
reading may, in one sense of the term, be called 
monotonous; and, such monotony, when the sense 
requires it, is not a deformity, but a beauty, in de- 
livery. But, there is a species of monotony, not 
uncommon, in reading poetry, especially, that should 
be avoided, in all cases. This monotony, is produced 



164 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

by using the same phrases of melody, and, in the 
same order, upon the successive lines ; and also, by 
ending the successive lines, and making the succes- 
sive cadences, upon precisely, the same pitch. The 
melody and pitch, upon any one of the lines, may 
be unexceptionable ; and yet, the constant recurrence, 
of the melody and pitch, will be very unpleasant, to 
the hearer. 

I have heard Campbell's "Battle of Hohenlinden" 
read, with a tolerable melody upon each line, but, 
with the successive final words, of the first three 
lines of each stanza, upon precisely the same note ; 
the pitch of low, snow, and flow, all being upon one 
note; that of sight, night; and light, upon another, 
perhaps one tone higher ; and so on, throughout the 
whole. And, besides this, the phrases of melody, 
used in one stanza, were repeated, in the same 
order, in every other. To listen to such reading, 
even when the articulation is good, is a sore afflic- 
tion ; but, where the monotony is accompanied with 
such articulation as that indicated, on page 157, it is 
absolutely intolerable. 

The Chromatic Melody. 

It is scarcely to be believed, that there is any per- 
son, so void of all the kindly feelings of our nature, 
as not, at times, in social intercourse, to use the 
semitonic or chromatic melody. He will, at times 
feel "the dint of pity," and speak, in the language 
of condolence, to a suffering child, or friend, and, in 
doing this, he will, assuredly, employ that move- 
ment of the voice. And yet, there are many, from 
whom, in reading, we never hear a single line in 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 165 

that melody. They seem as though they thought it 
would be, beneath their dignity, to use, iu public 
reading, or speaking, that intonation, which nature 
would dictate, if they were addressing, in private, a 
suffering, and beloved friend. We often hear 
prayers, either read, or extemporaneously delivered, 
in the unimpassioned diatonic melody, by such very 
dignified individuals. 

I have frequently attended funerals of friends or 
acquaintances, where the service of the Episcopal 
Church, was read, and heard the following most 
solemn address to the Almighty, delivered in this 
unimpassioned manner. 

"In the midst of life, we are in death; of whom, 
may we seek for succor, but of thee, Lord, who, 
for our sins, art justly displeased? Yet, O Lord 
God, most holy, O Lord, most mighty, O holy and 
most merciful Saviour, deliver us not, into the bitter 
pains, of eternal death." 

Such a mode of reading the passage, deprives the 
language of all semblance of either contrition or 
supplication ; and must be revolting to the feelings 
of every well educated mind. Nothing, but the 
chromatic melody, with long quantity and the me- 
dian stress, can do justice to such language. The 
Lord's prayer, read in the diatonic melody, on ever 
so low a pitch of voice, or, with whatever length of 
quantity, upon the syllables, still lacks the true in- 
tonation of prayer. 

The learner will find, in the Psalms, and, in some 
of the Prophets, an abundance of examples, for 
practice in the semitonic melody. Let him also 
practice upon the "Dirge in Cymbeline," which re- 

16* 



166 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

quires the chromatic melody, throughout, for the 
proper expression of its sentiments. There is much, 
too, in the opening paragraph of the third book of 
"Paradise Lost," in which Milton refers to his blind- 
ness, that can only be properly read, in the chro- 
matic melody. Let the learner practice, particularly, 
upon the closing part of that paragraph, commencing 
with the words, " Thus, with the year, seasons re- 
turn," &c, and keep the same movement of the 
voice, to the end. 

The Tritonic Melody. 

The tritonic melody, in my opinion, is the only 
appropriate mode, of expressing the highest degree 
of praise ; especially when that praise, is addressed 
to the Supreme Being. The only alternative mode, 
is the diatonic melody, with long quantity and the 
mediam stress; and that, seems altogether too 
cold and formal for the purpose. In the reading 
of the "Morning Hymn," in the fifth book of 
"Paradise Lost," I can only satisfy myself, by 
using the tritonic melody upon the whole, until I 
arrive at the middle of the fourth line from the 
end, where the petition commences; and, after 
that, the chromatic melody, is the only proper one. 
There are many passages, too, in the Psalms, and, 
some in Isaiah, which require the same, highly 
wrought, and glowing movement. The first three 
verses in the eighty-first Psalm, is one of these; 
the first verse of the one hundred and eleventh 
Psalm, is another. 

The following four lines from Derzhavin, can only 
receive their appropriate expression, from this nifi- 






OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 1G7 

lody; and, there are several other passages, in the 
same piece, which require it. 

"A million torches, lighted by thy hand, 
Wander, unwearied, through the blue abyss. 
They own thy power, accomplish thy command ; 
All, gay with life, all, eloquent with bliss." 

Interrogation. 

In speaking of interrogation, questions were di- 
vided into three classes; and the proper intonation, 
for each class, was briefly stated. A few more ob- 
servations upon this important subject may not, how- 
ever, be amiss. It will, also, be proper to collect to- 
gether, for practice, a greater number of examples, 
of each class. 

Of the mode of reading questions of the first class, 
little need be added to what was said in the eleventh 
section. They are declarative or imperative sen- 
tences, converted into questions, by a rising concrete 
of a third, fifth, or octave upon every syllable. By 
giving the rise of a third, only, the question will im- 
ply, that the speaker is not quite certain, whether 
he has understood, perfectly, the declaration, or com- 
mand ; and, that he puts the question, in order to be 
informed, upon that point. But, if the speaker uses 
the rising fifth or octave, upon each syllable, he 
gives no reason to doubt, as to his having under- 
stood the declaration, or command. By the use of 
the rising fifth, he expresses his surprise, that such a 
declaration should be made, or, such a command, 
given. By the use of the octave, especially if joined 
with strong radical stress, the surprise, will be 
changed into anger. If this be correct, and I be- 



168 PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 

lieve it is, we must then conclude, that even in 
questions of the first class, doubt is not always im- 
plied. This may lead us to doubt, the correctness 
of some of the observations, made by Dr. Rush and 
Mr. Caldwell, upon the subject of interrogation. 
They seem to think that the primary object, of every 
interrogation, is, to obtain information ; and yet, they 
admit that, to give the rising fifth, or octave, upon 
every syllable of an imperative sentence, converts it 
into a genuine question. 

The pupil, will soon acquire the power of giving 
the rising third upon every syllable of a sentence or 
phrase, or even to a single syllable or elementary 
sound, so as to convert it into an interrogation ; but, 
to give, with facility, the rising fifth or octave, so as 
to express surprise or anger, will require more effort. 
Let no one, however, abandon his efforts, until the 
end shall be attained. The pupil should never say, 
or even think, "I cannot do that;" which, is too 
common an answer, to a request of the teacher. He 
should rather say, "I see (or understand) that you 
can do it, and, I, will make all needful effort, to ac- 
complish it." The latter is much the most philo- 
sophical reply, to such a request; and, it has, be- 
sides, when made in downright earnest, the great 
advantage of insuring success. 

Interrogations of the second class, formed by 
placing the subject after the verb, or, between the 
auxiliary and the principal verb, may be so intonated 
as to express doubt, surprise or anger, by giving the 
rising third, fifth, or octave, upon every syllable, or, 
they maybe so read as to express, strongly, the belief 
+ hat the answer must be a negative one. To make 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 169 

the question convey the latter impression, we give the 
falling third, fifth, or octave, to each syllable. There 
is, still, another mode of intonating such questions, 
which may be considered as a kind of compromise, 
between the former two. Let us illustrate this by 
an example. In Antony's oration, at the burial of 
Caesar, he says, "But, Brutus says he was ambitious", 
and then, he proceeds to show that this charge was 
unfounded. He might have, simply denied the 
charge ; but, it suited his purpose better to let his 
audience, draw that inference, from his course of 
reasoning. He commences this, by saying, 

" He (Caesar) hath brought many captives \* >me to Rome, 
Whose ransoms, did, the general coffers, fill." 

and then asks 

"Did this, in Ccesar, seem ambitious?" 

Dr. Rush believes, that this, should be read with a 
forcible intonation of the falling intervals, making 
it convey the idea of the positive assertion that this 
did not seem ambitious. This, is not in accordance 
with my opinion. It would defeat the very purpose, 
which the wily Roman, had in view ; that, of fur- 
nishing arguments, and permitting the multitude to 
draw their own inference. I would, therefore, read 
it, as a genuine question, and allow the hearers to 
give the negative answers, to themselves. But, as 
said before, a kind of compromise may be made, 
between the two, by using the unequal wave upon 
the syllables ; composed of a rising third, and a fall- 
ing fifth. The first constituent, conveying the im- 
pression of doubt, and the second of certainty. 



170 PKINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

A little after this, in the oration, Antony says, 

"You all did see, that, on the Lupercal, 
I, thrice, presented him, a kingly crown, 
Which, he did, thrice, refuse. Was this ambition?" 

Here is another argument, followed by a question, 
for them to answer in the negative ; or, if not so, 
a question, which, he invited them, to join him, in 
thus answering. I consider this, as one of the most 
artful speeches ever composed by man; written 
by one, who seems to have had a thorough know- 
ledge of human nature, in all its phases ; one, who 
knew that the illiterate, the vulgar, are always 
better pleased, and, therefore, more easily won, by 
compliments to their intelligence, than by down- 
right assertions. I therefore conclude, that Shak- 
speare himself, read this as an earnest interroga- 
tory, and not as dictating to the multitude, what 
inference, they should draw, from the premises, he 
had laid down. 

Let us examine another example, given by Dr. 
Rush, to illustrate the strong downward concrete on 
the syllables, in a question of the second class. 

"Judge me, ye Gods! Wrong I mine enemies? 
And, if not so, how should I wrong my brother ?" 

I admit that Brutus, intended to convey the 
idea that he did not wrong even his enemies ; 
and yet, he uses the form of a question, of the 
second class, to convey that idea, instead of a posi- 
tive assertion. In doing this, he shows that he 
expects his auditor, to assent to the fact; and, 
therefore, in the reading, I would use the com- 



OBSERVATIONS ON BEADING AND SPEAKING. 171 

promise, of a rising third, and falling fifth upon tho 
successive syllables. 

To conclude, upon the subject of questions of the 
second class, I do not think there is any case, in 
which they will bear the simple falling concrete of 
a third, fifth, or octave, unless it be when two ques- 
tions of that class, are connected by the conjunction, 
or, as in the following ; viz : 

"Is this false? or true?" "Is Christ, the abler teacher? or the 
schools ?" 

In each of these pairs of questions, there is a direct 
antithesis ; and, the latter, of each pair, must, either, 
be intonated by the simple falling concrete of a 
third, or fifth, or must take the unequal direct wave, 
with the second constituent, not less than a falling 
third or fifth. The simple falling concrete, may be 
used ; but, I prefer the unequal wave. 

In interrogations of the third class, commencing 
with interrogative pronouns or adverbs, it has 
already been said, we never use a simple upward 
concrete upon the syllables. They all take the un- 
equal, direct wave, upon the syllables, in the really 
interrogative parts of the sentence. I say, in the 
really interrogative parts of the sentence, because 
there are often words, used in the sentence, which 
are not essential to the question. In the following, 
from Shakspeare, those parts, only, that are in italics, 
are interrogative. 

"Brother, good-day — What means this armed guard, 
That waits upon your Grace ?" 

" Why, with some litttv train, my lord of Buckingham?" 

" Why, did you laugh, then, when I said man delights not me ?" 



172 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

" What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, 
That he should weep for her ?" 

" What of his heart, perceive you in his face, 
By any likelihood he showed to-day ?" 

If the note of interrogation be intended as a guide 
to the reader, it should, in all such cases, be placed 
at the end of the interrogative part, instead of, at 
the end of the sentence. 

A few words, now, as to the mode of intonating 
such questions as the foregoing. In the first, if we 
ask the question in a moderate manner, each syllable 
will take a rising third and falling tone, until we 
come to guard, which will take the rising tone and 
falling third. If the question be asked with marked 
surprise, the rising constituents of the waves, until 
we come to guard, will be fifths ; and, upon guard, 
the falling constituent will be a fifth. 

It may be well to say a few words, as to the mode 
of reading those parts of these sentences, which fol- 
low the interrogation ; for, much depends upon this. 
It is done thus. We give the falling concrete of a 
tone, to every syllable, that follows the interrogation, 
with the triad of the cadence at the end. "We also 
read them with the abatement of voice, spoken of, in 
the section upon grouping ; not allowing any of the 
syllables to have their radicals, higher than the 
vanish of the last syllable of the real question. 

If, in the question, there is any particular word 
upon which you wish to make the question turn, 
then you give to that word, or, to its accented syl- 
lable, the unequal wave with its second constituent, 
the greater; and, read all that remains, with the 
simple, falling concrete, and the abatement of voice. 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 173 

Suppose, for instance, I wish to make the word, 
heart, in the last example, emphatic; I will, in that 
case rise, a third, and fall, a fifth, upon that word, 
and read the remainder of the line with the abate- 
ment of voice, as above stated. The remainder of 
the sentence may be read, with a still further abate- 
ment, if we have sufficient compass ; or it may be 
read upon a key somewhat higher, than the pre- 
ceding clause, but, not upon the same key. 

Pauses. 

In the twelfth section, the subject of pauses in dis- 
course, was treated of at considerable length; but, 
the clear comprehension, on the part of our hearers, 
of the thoughts we express, either in reading or 
speaking, depends so much upon the proper manage- 
ment of these rests, that it will be well to call the 
attention of the student, again, to the subject. In 
the reading exercises, in the second part of this 
compend, it is my intention to mark all the pauses, 
which the sense requires. But, in books, in general, 
this is very far from being the case ; and the pupil, 
should acquire the habit, of scanning everything he 
reads, with direct reference to this subject. To give 
a kind of key, to such a habit of scanning, I will 
take a passage, from Milton, omitting the pauses 
marked by Mr. Cleveland, except the period, at the 
end; and then state where the pauses should be 
made, and, for what reason. 

" thou that with surpassing glory crowned 
Look'st from thy sole dominion like the God 
Of this new world at whose sight all the stars 
Hide their diminished heads to thee I call 
17 



174 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

But -with no friendly voice and add thy name 

sun to tell thee how I hate thy beams 

That bring to my remembrance from what state 

1 fell how glorious once above thy sphere 
Till pride and worse ambition threw me down 
Warring in heaven against heaven's matchless king. 

Of course, no person could read this passage, 
without some pauses, for the purpose of taking 
breath. But, so far as the object, of making ap- 
parent the author's meaning, is concerned, he might, 
just as well, make them wherever it suited his con- 
venience, to take breath, as to be governed by the 
punctuation in the books. Both, would be entire 
failures. Nor, is this, by any means, a solitary in- 
stance of a punctuation, altogether inconsistent with 
the meaning, that the author intends to convey ; or, 
indeed, inconsistent with any rational meaning. 

The first two words, thou, being merely the ad- 
dress, will take a pause after them. This pause is, 
sometimes, marked by a comma, and, sometimes, by 
a note of admiration ; the reading, however, will be 
precisely the same, whether it be the one, or, the 
other. 

The pronoun, that, is the subject of the verb, 
look'st, and, there is an expletive phrase that inter- 
venes between them. That expletive, requires a 
pause, at its commencement, and, another at its end. 
We, therefore, place a comma, after that, and, an- 
other, after crowned. 

The next clause, without expletive, is, look'st like 
the God. But, the expletive, from thy sole dominion, 
intervenes ; and, it will take a comma, after look'st, 
and another after dominion. The phrase, of this new 
world, is an adjunct to God, and takes a pause before 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 

it. The last pause, is not, indeed, essential to the 
clear expression of the sense ; but, it is better with, 
than, without it. 

The pause after world, is indicated, by Cleveland, 
by a semicolon; it should be rather longer than 
those preceding it, but, the phrase of melody, im- 
mediately before it, is of more importance, than the 
mere length of the pause. 

At ichose sight, is a phrase modifying the verb r 
from which it is separated by intervening words, and 
it must be followed by a pause, before the word, all. 
Stars may be considered as the subject of the verb, 
hide; and, it is modified by the two preceding words ; 
it must, therefore, be followed by a pause, between it 
and the verb. The pause after Heads, will be similar 
to that after world. 

The phrase, to thee, is put out of its natural posi- 
tion, and, must, in consequence, be followed by a 
pause. But with no frit is an expletive 

phrase, and, must have a pause before it, and. one, 
after it. Cleveland, has a comma, at the former, and, 
a semicolon, at the latter. The same pause should 
be used for both. 

The expletive, last mentioned, commences with 
the conjunction, but, and, whenever that conjunction 
connects two clauses, each containing a finite verb, 
*s is, in fact the case here, it must be separated, from 
the following words, by a pause.* It may, here, be 

* Lest the student should not, at once, perceive that buf. connects 
kwo such clauses, I Trill supply the ellipsis and give the sense in plain 
prose. u I call to thee. but. / mB :o tke*, vrith no friendly voice."' 
The words, / call to thee, are distinctly understood, though not ex- 
pressed. 



176 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

stated that, whenever an ellipsis is made, a pause 
should be made at the point where the word, or, 
words are left out. 

And add thy name, is a simple sentence, with the 
subject, I, of the verb, add, omitted after and; a 
pause must, therefore, be made between and and add. 
Then comes a pause after name, another, after sun, 
and, another, after thee; all of the same kind. 

In reading this passage, I make a feeble cadence 
at beams, and a pause, rather longer than either of 
the three preceding ones; but, it must not, of course, 
be a period. A smoother reading may be given, by 
using the equal direct wave of the third, instead of 
the direct downward concrete of a third, on beams ; 
but in doing this we sacrifice the emotion of hatred, 
which is intended, to mere smoothness of utterance. 

In the next line, the verb, bring, is a transitive one, 
and, has, for its object, the clause,— from what state I 
fell. But, the phrase, to my remembrance, intervenes 
between the verb and its object, and, the phrase 
must be separated, from the context, by a pause 
before, and, another, after it. 

The pause and the melody, at fell, should be the 
same as at, beams; whether that melody be the 
feeble cadence, by a falling third, or, the wave of 
the third. 

How glorious once above thy sphere, means, "how 
glorious that state was, once, above thy sphere;" we 
must, therefore, have a pause after glorious, where 
the ellipsis is made; and, another, after once, to 
separate that adverb, from the expletive phrase, 
above thy sphere. 

Mr Cleveland, has a semicolon, after sphere ; but, 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 177 

as that is the last word, of a mere expletive phrase, 
a semicolon, there, is evidently improper. It should 
be such as we place at the end, of any of the other 
expletive phrases. 

The next line, till pride and worse ambition threw me 
down, is given, in the books, without a pause, until 
we come to the end. If so read, it makes nonsense 
of the line; and, Milton, was not in the habit of 
writing nonsense. 

Till, is an adverb, modifying the verb, icas, which 
is understood, in the previous line ; and must, there- 
fore, have a pause after it, to show that it is not in- 
tended to modify threw. Another pause must be 
made after aiwl, to separate it from the expletive 
phrase, of which worse, forms a part;* and then, a 
similar pause, after worse. 

The pause at the end of the line, indicated, in the 
books, by a comma, is a proper one. 

The remaining line is a kind of addendum, to the 
preceding, containing within it, the expletive phrase, 
in heaven, which must have a pause, before, and, 
another, after it. The only remaining pause, is the 
period, at the end, to be preceded by the triad of the 
cadence. 

I give the passage again, with all the necessary 
pauses, indicated. 

"0 thou, that, with surpassing glory crowned, 
Look'st, from thy sole dominion, like the God, 
Of this new world, at whose sight, all the stars, 
Hide their diminished heads, to thee, I call, 
But, with no friendly voice, and, add thy name, 



* See the analysis of this line, in the twelfth section. 

17* 



178 PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 

sun, to tell thee, how I hate thy beams ; 

That bring, to my remembrance, from what state, 

1 fell ; how glorious, once, above thy sphere, 
Till, pride, and, worse, ambition, threw me down, 
Warring, in heaven, against heaven's matchless king." 

The following, which I give, as examples for 
practice, are less difficult, than the above; but, they 
will serve as good exercises, for the judgment of the 
student. The periods, only, are inserted, the re- 
mainder, of the necessary pauses, are to be pointed 
out, by the pupil. 

"When at length Hyder Ali found that he had to 
do with men who either would sign no convention 
or whom no treaty and no signature could bind and 
who were the determined enemies of human inter- 
course itself he decreed to make the country pos- 
sessed by these incorrigible and predestinated crimi- 
nals a memorable example to mankind. He resolved 
in the gloomy recesses of a mind capacious of such 
things to leave the whole Carnatic an everlasting 
monument of vengeance and to put perpetual deso- 
lation as a barrier between him and those against 
whom the faith which holds the moral elements of 
the world together was no protection." Burke. 

" Such were the last hours and such the final 
close of this great man's life. May the like happy 
serenity in such dreadful circumstances and a death 
equally glorious be the lot of all whom tyranny of 
whatever description or denomination shall in any 
age or in any country call to expiate their virtues on 
the scaffold." C. J. Fox. 

" Whence and what art thou execrable shape 
That dar'st though grim and terrible advance 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 179 

Thy miscreated front athwart my way 

To yonder gates through them 1 mean to pass 

That be assured without leave asked of thee 

Retire or taste thy folly and learn by proof 

Hell-born not to contend with spirits of Heaven." Milton. 

" Thy chains the unmeasured universe surround 
Upheld by thee by thee inspired with breath 
Thou the beginning with the end hast bound 
And beautifully mingled life and death 
As sparks mount upwards from the fiery blaze 
So suns are born so worlds spring forth from thee 
And as the spangles in the sunny rays 
Shine round the silver snow the pageantry 
Of heaven's bright army glitters in Thy praise." Derzhavin. 

"Since pulpits fail and sounding boards reflect 
Most part an empty ineffectual sound 
What chance that I to fame so little known 
Nor conversant with men and manners much 
Should speak to purpose or with better hope 
Crack the satiric thong 'Twere wiser far 
For me enamored of sequestered scenes 
And charmed with rural beauty to repose 
Where chance may throw me beneath some elm or vine 
My languid limbs when summer sears the plains 
Or when rough winter rages on the soft 
And sheltered sofa while the nitrous air 
Feeds a blue flame and makes a cheerful hearth." Cowper. 

It would be well for the student to exercise him- 
self frequently, in the examination of complex 
passages, in order to discover what pauses, in read- 
ing, will be necessary to enable him to convey the 
idea, in the most clear, and, at the same time, the 
most agreeable manner. He will find full opportu- 
nity for the exercise of his judgment, even in those 
books which have been most carefully, pointed, for, 
what they call, the grammatical pauses. If he wishes 
to know why a part, only, of the necessary pauses, 



180 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

are thus called, he must consult some learned au- 
thority. To me, it appears that all pauses, required 
to make clear, the meaning of the author or speaker, 
are equally entitled to that name ; or, rather, that it 
is useless to have any such distinctions as grammati- 
cal, rhetorical, &c. 

Grouping. 

When speaking of the grouping of speech, in the 
fifteenth section, we, incidentally, compared a part 
of its effects, to the art of the landscape painter ; by 
which he makes one part of his figures, very pro- 
minent, and, throws others, into the background. 
There is, in fact, a strong analogy, between the art 
of the painter, and that of the speaker. The first, 
if not instructed in the principles of perspective, 
makes all his figures and all their parts equally 
prominent. So with him, who tries to read without 
having learned, which of his words, should be made 
prominent, and, which, are to be thrown, as it were, 
into the shade. A mere parenthetical clause, or ex- 
pletive phrase, is read or spoken, by him, with as 
much force, and as much variety, in melody, as the 
important parts of the sentence. The painter, first 
makes his sketch, with pencil or crayon, placing 
every object in its proper relative position, with all 
the prominent parts fully developed, and, the more 
minute, delicately traced. The reader's first object 
is, to do the same, with the thoughts or ideas of his 
author. Some of these, he brings out boldly, in the 
foreground, while others, of less importance, are 
thrown into the distance. Both pictures are now 
finished, so far as the outlines are concerned. But, 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 181 

they still want the coloring. This, the painter, 
gives, by the proper use of his pigments, and pen- 
cils or brushes. The reader, does the same, by a 
proper employment of those functions of the voice, 
which denote sentiment, emotion, or passion. 

Grouping is to be used for the purpose of arranging, 
in their proper places, the various thoughts, and 
shades of thought, that are to be conveyed to the 
hearer. This, at least, is its principal object. We 
do, it is true, occasionally, group by passionate ex- 
pression ; but, this is of rare occurrence ; while 
grouping, for the purpose of arranging thoughts, in 
proper order, is constantly required. 

In order to obtain a clear notion of this kind of 
grouping, let us examine the first sentence, of the 
extract from Burke, on page 178. A little examina- 
tion, will show us, that the leading or prominent 
idea, is contained in the words, "he (Hyder Ali) 
decreed to make the country, a memorable example to man- 
kind," and that the remainder of the sentence, is only 
subsidiary ; and, of course, it ought to be made to 
appear so, in the reading. The question, then, is, 
how this is to be effected. It may be done thus, so 
far as concerns the words, preceding this prominent 
phrase. On all the syllables, use a perfectly clear 
articulation, with moderate force, and on a medium 
key, with the simple use of a tone upon each. When 
vou arrive at the commencement of the sentence, in 
italics, lower the key, at least a tone, use the equal 
wave of the second, upon the syllables, instead of 
the simple rise, let the median stress, take the place 
of the radical, let the phrase of the monotone pre- 
vail, and the object will be accomplished. We must, 



182 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

however, avoid one very common, and very great, 
fault, in reading and speaking : viz. that of falling 
off, in force of voice, as we approach the cadence, so 
as scarcely to be audible, at the end. 

But, the expletive phrase, possessed by these incor- 
rigible and predestinated criminals, is omitted, from the 
sentence italicized above, between the noun, country, 
and the article, a. How is this phrase, to be ma- 
naged? Give a slight emphasis to country, by a rising 
third, upon its accented syllable coun, and, placing 
the radical of try, as high as the vanish of coun, 
(which should be done even when reading the sen- 
tence without the expletive) then, drop a fifth upon 
the radical of pos, and give the whole phrase very 
monotonously, and with abatement of force. When 
you arrive at the end of the phrase, rise a third, for 
the radical of a, and, the expletive will hold its proper 
place, with respect to the main parts of the sentence. 

Now, for those parts of the sentence which pre- 
cede its prominent idea. Some of them, must be 
more prominently brought out, than others, and 
their connection be made apparent. 

When, the first word, is an adverb, used to express 
the time, of the verb, decreed; from which it is sepa- 
rated, by more than three lines of the context. To 
show the connection, when, must be made emphatic, 
by rising a third upon it, and using the loud concrete. 
Then all the words, that intervene between it and 
decreed, except he, must be pronounced with abate- 
ment of voice ; and, thus, the connection of these two 
words, will be shown, by using two of the modes of 
grouping, mentioned, in the fifteenth section. 

At length, is an adverbial phrase, qualifying the 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 183 

same verb, decreed, from which it is far separated. 
Let us give this phrase a third, lower than when, on 
a monotone, and make the rising ditone, with the 
first syllable of Hyder ; place found, upon the same 
pitch as, at length, and the connection, with the aid 
of two pauses, one, before, and the other, after, 
Hyder Ali, will be properly shown. 

The rest of the grouping in this sentence is per- 
formed by pauses, and the proper phrases of melody, 
at those pauses. This, the intelligent student will 
be able to accomplish, without further special di- 
rection. 

Let us examine the last three lines of the stanza, 
(on page 179) from Derzhavin. There is something 
required there, which is worthy of attention. I quote 
the lines again, that we may have them under view. 

1 ' And, as the spangles in the sunny rays, 
Shine round the silver sno"W, the pageantry, 
Of heaven's bright army, glitters, in thy praise." 

The first word, and, is used to connect the last 
simple sentence, in the preceding line, so worlds spring 
forth, with, the pageantry glitters. But, there is a long 
expletive group intervening between and, and the 
clause last quoted. This expletive group must be 
read with abatement of voice, and some extra force 
given to and, to show the connection stated above. 
The pupil will perceive that I purposely left out the 
words, of heaven's bright army, between pageantry and 
glitters. This, is an adjunct group ; and, adjunct groups 
or phrases, require different management, from ad- 
verbial, or expletive phrases. They, generally, are to 
be read, as we have seen, with abatement of voice ; 



184 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

that is, their pitch is to be depressed, their force, 
diminished, and, their melody, more monotonous. 
Adjunct phrases, on the contrary, are, generally, 
placed above the preceding words, in pitch, their 
force, is to be somewhat increased, and their melody 
more varied. 

In reading this adjunct phrase, I would place the 
radical of the first syllable, of, at least a tone higher 
than that of the preceding syllable, try; that of heav, 
a third lower than of; that of ens, a third higher than 
heav; that of bright, a third lower than ens; that of 
ar, a third higher than bright; and, that of my, an- 
other third higher than ar. This takes me to a high 
pitch, upon my. I, then, drop down for the radical 
of glit, to about the same pitch as the radical of pag, 
the first syllable of the subject of glitters. The radical 
of ters, I place, a third higher, than that of glit; that 
of in, on the same pitch, as ters; that of thy, a third 
lower than that of in ; and that of praise, a third 
lower than that of thy. Upon praise, I use the un- 
equal, direct, wave of rising third, and falling fifth. 

This reading, lays on the colors strong, as the 
painter would say, but, in my opinion, the sentiment 
requires it. 

Falling Concretes. 

One of the most puzzling things to the beginner, 
in Elocution, especially if he has long been, in the 
habit of reading, in our schools, is the management 
of the falling concretes, or slides. He has been 
taught, that the voice must fall, at a period, and, may, 
sometimes, fall at a colon, or semicolon ; but, that, 
generally, at a semicolon, and, always, at a comma 






OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 185 

it must be kept up, or, suspended, as the teacher 
calls, the use of the rising concrete. But, it very 
frequently happens, that, if we would express the 
meaning of our author correctly, we must use the 
falling concrete, even at a comma. When the pupil 
meets with a case of this kind, in his practice, he, 
generally, finds great difficulty, in following his in- 
structor. He fails, in the first attempt. The teacher 
repeats the phrase, giving more force to the falling 
concrete, in order to make it more conspicuous ; and, 
requests the pupil, to try it again. This the pupil 
does, with the determination to make it right ; and, 
again, fails. The instructor, next, asks the pupil to 
look at him, instead of looking at his book ; he then 
gives the syllable the falling concrete, and the pupil, 
this time, succeeds, without difficulty. But, when 
he turns his eye upon the book, again, and, sees the 
comma, staring him in the face, it is not improbable, 
that he will find the same difficulty, as at first. This 
is, certainly, rather discouraging; but, if both in- 
structor and pupil, have a good stock of patience (a 
very necessary qualification for both) success, will 
always 'crown their efforts. Then, the next time, 
such a case occurs, the difficulty will be lessened, 
and will, at length, disappear. 

A good exercise for pupils who have trouble, in 
this way, would be the reading of an advertisement, of 
a sale of household goods, and kitchen furniture, at 
public auction. In such an advertisement, the vari- 
ous articles are enumerated, with a comma between 
them, and most persons will give the falling con- 
crete upon each. Take the following, as a sample. 

" To be sold, at public vendue, on Wednesday 

18 



186 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

the day of 1857, at the auction store of 

the whole stock of household and kitchen 
furniture, belonging to a family about to remove from 
; consisting of beds, bedsteads, and bedding, 
bureaus, sofas, chairs, tables, knives and forks, pots, 
kettles, pans, pails, and other articles, too numerous, 
to mention. " 

I say, that most persons would, and every person, 
should, in reading such an advertisement as this, 
make the falling concretes, as I have marked them ; 
and yet each, except the last, is, immediately, fol- 
lowed by a comma. Let the pupil practice upon 
this, until the eye, the ear, and the organs of voice, 
have all become familiar, with the execution of a 
falling slide, at a comma ; and, after that, he will 
find little difficulty in doing the same, wherever 
it is required. We are, in this respect, like a 
wild horse, that "flies the road," at most objects 
that are new to him; but, which, by gentle, but 
firm, treatment, may soon be brought to pass the 
same objects, without the least difficulty. 

I have selected the following, as good exercises, 
for those pupils, who have difficulties, of this kind, 
to contend with. They are from Cowper, who, it 
may be said, is one of the very best of our descrip- 
tive poets, provided we read his lines, in the same 
spirit in which he wrote them. 

" Hark! 'tis the twanging hdrn, o'er yonder bridge, 
That, with its wearisome, but needful, length, 
Bestrides the wintry flood, in which, the moon, 
Sees her un wrinkled face, reflected bright." 

"Now, stir the fire, and, close the sh titters fast 
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, 
And," &c. 






OBSERVATIONS ON BEADING AND SPEAKING. 187 

" This f61i5 of four pages, happy work, 
******* 
What Is it, but a map, of busy life, 
Its fluctuatibns, and, its vast concerns." 

" The rest appears a wilderness, of strange, 
But gay, confusion ; roses, for the cheeks, 
And, lilies, for the br&ws, of faded age, 
Teeth, for the to6thless, ringlets, for the bald, 
Heaven, earth, and dcean, plundered of their sweets, 
Nectareous essences, Olympian dews, 
Sermons, and city feasts, and fav'rite airs, 
Ethereal journies, submarine exploits," &c. 

Passionate Expression. 

In the sixteenth section, we enumerated most 
of the movements, and modifications of the voice, 
and set down, under each, several of the more pro- 
minent emotions, in the expression of which, it is 
needed. It must have been observed, that those, 
set down under the same movement or modifica- 
tion, were, oftes, very different in character; and, 
the student, might have been surprised at this. 
But, let him reflect that no emotion or passion, can 
be expressed, without using more than one of these 
modifications ; and, that it is by different modes, of 
combining these elementary movements, that the 
great variety of human emotions, is expressed. 
.Nor, is this a new thing. The chemist, in his 
analysis of natural substances, can discover but a 
small number, that are really elementary ; and yet, 
by the different combinations, and different propor- 
tions of these, with what an infinite variety, does 
nature furnish us. Oxygen, is a large constituent 
of the air, we breathe, and the water, we drink, to 
support life and health. So, too, is oxygen, a large 



188 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

constituent of some of our most virulent poisons. 
A mere difference, in the proportions of two 
elements, often furnishes us with compounds, alto- 
gether different in their qualities and effects. The 
air, by which we are surrounded, is composed of 
Nitrogen and Oxygen. So, also, is Mtrous Oxide, 
or Exhilarating Gas ; but, in the latter, the propor- 
tions, are different from those, of the former. The 
natural philosopher, finds but seven primary colors 
in light ; and yet, by the combination of these, in 
different ways, and, in different proportions, nature 
and art, present us, with an almost infinite variety 
of shades of color. Let the pupil, reflect upon 
these well known facts, and cease to wonder, that, 
by the ordination of nature, the same function of 
the voice, should be employed, in the expression of 
emotions, widely different, from each other. 

I will now make some selections, especially from 
the poets, in which passionate emotion is indicated, 
and, accompany them with such observations, as 
may be required, upon the proper manner of read- 
ing them ; and also, point out the modifications 
of voice which are to be employed, upon each. I 
will, first, refer to some which require the plaintive 
expression. 

First, the "Dirge in Cymbeline," by Collins. 
The emotion intended to be conveyed, is grief for 
the loss of a beloved companion, supposed to be 
dead; but, this is mingled with pleasant thoughts 
of the repose of the dead in the " quiet grave." 
Grief, as we have seen, in section 16, requires the 
wave of the semitone, and a low key, for its appro- 
priate expression ; and pleasant thoughts require a 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 189 

key above the medium. In reading this dirge, we 
compromise, by adopting the key appropriate to 
the pleasant emotions, combined with the wave of 
the semitone. The last two stanzas, however, hav- 
ing less of pleasant anticipations, mingled with the 
grief, should be read in a somewhat lower key, 
which should gradually descend, in the last stanza 
so as to make the cadence, on a decidedly low 
pitch. But, in thus descending in pitch, the pupil, 
must be careful to avoid, one great, but very com- 
mon, error, of both readers and speakers ; that of 
falling off, in force of voice, as the pitch is lowered, 
so as to be scarcely audible, upon the final syllable. 
In all kinds of reading, this is a great fault. 

In the reading of this piece, the greater the 
smoothness of the voice, the better will be the 
effect. 

I do not take y space to copy the "Dirge," here, 
because it will be found among the reading exer- 
cises, in the second part. 

The following extract from the celebrated "Mono- 
dy," by Lord Lyttleton, upon the death of his wife, 
expresses unmixed grief. It must, therefore, be 
read in a low key, with the wave of the semitone, 
very slow time, and, very long quantity. 

" Sweet babes, who, like the little playful fawns, 
Were wont to trip along these verdant lawns, 
By your delighted mother's side, 
Who, now, your infant steps, shall guide ? 
Ah, where is now, the hand, whose tender care, 
To every virtue, would have formed your youth ? 
And, strewed, with flowers, the thorny ways of truth ? 
0, loss, beyond repair ! 
0, wretched father, left alone, 
To weep, their dire misfortune, and, thy own ! 
18* 



190 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

How shall thy weakened mind, oppressed with woe, 

And, drooping o'er thy Lucy's grave, 
Perform the duties, that you doubly owe, 

Now, she, alas, is gone, 
From folly, and, from vice, their helpless age, to save ? 
******* 
Such, Lucy was, when, in her fairest days, 
Amidst the acclaim, of universal praise, 
In life's and glory's freshest bloom, 
Death, came, remorseless, on, and, sunk her to the tomb. 
******* 
For my distracted mind, 
What succor, can I find ? 
On whom, for consolation, shall I call ? 
Support me, every friend : 
Your kind assistance, lend, 
To bear the weight, of this, oppressive woe. 

Alas ! each friend of mine, 
My dear, departed love, so much, was thine, 
That none, has any comfort to bestow. 
My books, the best relief 
In every, other, grief, 
Are, now, with your idea, saddened all : 
Each, favorite, author, we, together, read, 
My tortured memory, wounds, and, speaks of Lucy, dead." 

The following four lines from the commencement 
of Mark Antony's address to the dead body of 
Caesar, require the same intonation as the extract 
from the monody. 

" O, pardon me, thou piece of bleeding earth, 
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers. 
Thou art the ruins, of the noblest man, 
That ever lived, on the tide of times." 

The word, butchers, at the end of the second line, 
should be pronounced with decided emphasis, but, 
still the semitone must be preserved ; without the 
wave, however. 

Prayer, can only be properly expressed, by usin 



■ 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 191 

the wave of the semitone ; and yet, how seldom is it 
employed, by those who attempt to pray, or, read 
prayers. The wave of the semitone, almost of neces- 
sity, carries, with it, the median stress. In prayer, 
the key should be low, and the phrase of the mono- 
tone, should be frequently employed. 

The following short passages, will serve as ex- 
amples for practice. 

"0, pity, great Father of light, then I cried, 
Thy creature, who, fain, would not wander from thee : 
Lo, humbled, in dust, I relinquish iny pride : 
From doubt, and from darkness, thou, only, canst free." 

The clause, then I cried, not being a part of the 
prayer, must be read in the diatonic melody. 

"In the midst of life, we are in death. Of whom, 
may we seek, for succor, Fut from thee, Lord, 
who, for our sins, art justly displeased. Yet, O Lord 
God, most holy, O Lord, most mighty, holy, and 
most merciful Saviour, deliver us not, into the bitter 
pains, of eternal death." 

In the commencement of the following extract 
from Cowper, the sentiment is that of dejection or 
melancholy; in the seventeenth line, it changes to 
compassion or pity. Both require the chromatic 
melody ; but, the former emotions require a lower 
pitch, and longer quantity, than the latter. In the 
reading therefore, at the commencement of that line, 
the key should be raised, about a tone, and the 
quantity, somewhat, shortened. 

" I w a stricken deer, that left the herd, 
Lon 6 since ; with many an arrow, deep infixed, 
My panting side, was charged, when I withdrew, 
To seek a tranquil death, in distant shades. 



192 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

There, was I found, by one, -who had, himself, 

Been hurt, by the archers. In his side, he bore, 

And, in his hands and feet, the cruel scars. 

With gentle force, soliciting the darts, 

He drew them forth, and, healed, and, bade me live. 

Since then, with few associates, in remote, 

And silent woods, I wander, far from those, 

My former partners, of the peopled scene ; 

With few associates, and, not wishing, more. 

Here, much I ruminate, as much I may, 

With other views of men, and manners, now, 

Than once, and, others, of a life to come. 

I see that, all are wanderers, gone astray, 

Each, in his own delusions : They are lost, 

In chase of fancied happiness, still woo'd, 

And, never won. Dream, after dream, ensues ; 

And, still, they dream, that they shall, still, succeed, 

And, still, are disappointed. Rings, the world, 

With the vain stir. I sum, up, half mankind, 

And, add two thirds, of the remaining half, 

And, find the total of their hopes, and fears, 

Dreams, empty dreams." 

In the observations, preceding the last extract, I 
spoke of compassion and pity, in such a way, that the 
pupil might think them synonymous terms. They 
are not, precisely, synonymous, nor, do they admit, 
exactly the same mode of expression. They, both, 
signify the pain, we feel, at the misfortunes, or dis- 
tresses of others ; but, pity, is the sensation we ex- 
perience, when thinking of the distresses of those, 
whom we consider inferior to ourselves, either, in 
mental, or in physical powers, or, in worldly circum- 
stances ; while, compassion, is that, which we feel, iu 
reflecting upon those of our equals, or even supe- 
riors. "We pity a child, or, a poor, or, an imbecile, per- 
son. We compassionate the misfortunes of a friend, 
or, of people in general, who may not be our friends. 






OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKINQ. 193 

The emotion displayed, in the latter part of the 
above extract, is that of compassion. Pity is well 
illustrated, by the reply of the Horse to the Hare, in 
Gay's fable. It is to be read in a higher key than 
compassion, and with the simple concrete of the semi- 
tone, instead of the wave. 

"Poor, honest puss, 
It grieves my heart, to see thee thus ; 
Be comforted, relief, is near ; 
For, all your friends, are in the rear." 

There are other emotions which require the use 
of the semitone, either simple, or, in the wave, for 
their expression; but we cannot afford space for 
more. 

We will now refer to passions of an opposite cha- 
racter ; viz : Anger, Wrath, Rage, and Fury. These 
passions, all partake of the same nature, and spring 
from the same causes. They are sentiments of dis- 
pleasure, excited, by some obnoxious words or acts 
of others. They differ in degree, only, in their 
effect upon those who are under their influence. 
Anger, stands lowest upon the scale ; and, they as- 
cend, in the order, in which they are named, above. 
They are emotions which arise, suddenly ; and, are, 
often, of but short continuance. The effect of anger, 
upon the mind, is not so strong, but that, it may be 
so suppressed, as not to break out in words. Wrath, 
however, always vents itself in language. Neither 
of these has so much effect, upon the intellect, as 
to prevent its utterance, in words, that are true, 
and well arranged. Rage, breaks forth in extrava- 
gant hyperbole, denunciation, and vaunting; and. 



194 PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 

the language of Fury, is, incoherent vociferation, or, 
the explosive utterance, of unconnected, short sen- 
tences. 

The following speech of Cassius to Brutus, in the 
tent scene, is an appropriate example of the expres- 
sion of anger. For its proper delivery, it requires a 
comparatively high key, quick utterance, and strong 
radical stress. The emphatic syllables, take the 
simple concrete of the fifth ; and, the discrete inter- 
vals, will be, either thirds, or fifths. 

"Brutus, bay not me — 
I'll not endure it — You forget yourself, 
To hedge me in — I am a soldier ; I, 
Older in practice, abler than yourself, 
To make conditions." 

The following reply of Death, to the address of 
Satan, may be taken as a fine example of the ex- 
pression of wrath. 2sTot, however, the entire speech. 
Those parts, in italics, require a different expression, 
as the words indicate, to which we shall refer here- 
after. 

In reading the wrathful parts of this speech, the 
key should be about the same as in anger, the radi- 
cal stress more forcible, and the intervals, both con- 
crete and discrete, should be wider. 

"Art thou, that traitor angel? art thou he, 
Wno, first, broke peace, in heaven, and faith, till then, 
Unbroken ? and, in proud, rebellious arms, 
"Drew, after him, the third part of heaven's sons, 
Conjured, against the Highest ? For which, both thou 
And they, outcast from God, are here condemned, 
To waste eternal days in woe and pain. 
And, reckonest thou, thyself, with spirits of Heaven ? 
Hell doomed, and, breath'st defiance, here, and scorn, 
Where I, reign, king ? and, to enrage thee, more, 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 195 

Thy king and lord. Back, to thy punishment, 

False fugitive, and, to thy speed, add wings, 

Lest, with a whip of scorpions, I pursue 

Thy lingering ; or, with one stroke of this dart, 

Strange horror, soize thee, and pangs, unfelt before." 

I know of no better example of the expression of 
rage, than the last speech of Coriolanus, in Shak- 
speare's play of that name. Aufidius, before the 
lords of Corioli, has called him, a traitor; and, after- 
wards, has, contemptuously, addressed him, as a 
boy of tears, Coriolanus, filled with rage, replies, in 
the following manner. 

"Cut me to pieces, Voices, men and lads, 
Stain all your edges, on me — Boy ! False hound! 
If you have writ your annals, true, 'tis there, 
That, like an eagle, in a dove cote, I 
Fluttered your Voices, in Corioli ; 
Alone, I did it. Boy ! 

that I had him, 
With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, 
To use my lawful sword." 

In the reading of this, we have to use, in addition 
to the movements necessary for the expression of 
wrath, the aspiration, the thorough, or the vanishing 
stress, upon some of the words ; the first five words, 
in the latter paragraph, and the word more, call for 
the thorough stress ; the words, six, and, tribe, for 
the vanishing stress. Boy, False hound, and, Boy, 
again require the aspiration, to give them full effect. 

I have said that Fury, exhibits itself in mere in- 
coherent vociferations, or in the explosive utterance 
of unconnected, short sentences. It is hardly to be 
expected, therefore, that we should find, even in the 
dramatists, many examples of its expression in lan- 
guage. The best that I can think of, is the outburst 



196 PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION. 

of King Lear, at being checked and schooled by his 
daughter, who had declared she loved him " as much 
as child ever loved father." 

"Darkness and devils! 
Saddle my horse— call my train together — 
Degenerate bastard ! I'll not trouble thee — 
Yet have I left, a daughter." 

In the reading of this sentence the utmost force 
of the radical stress should be used, combined with 
wide skips, in radical pitch, and a large admixture 
of aspiration. 

We have now to speak of the emotion of Hatred. 
In many minds, the proper distinction, is not drawn, 
between this passion, and that of anger. Anger, is 
suddenly excited, and, either in its simplest forms, 
or, when it increases to wrath, to rage, or, even to 
fury, we do not expect it to be of long continuance. 
Hatred, on the contrary, often begins in simple dis- 
like, increases to aversion, and finally ends, in this, the 
most malignant of all the passions. Anger, is often 
excited in persons who are, in general, good tem- 
pered, and worthy. Hatred, only dwells in minds, 
that are much depraved. When we are under the 
influence of anger, we generally feel disposed to in- 
flict some injury, upon the person, or creature, that 
has excited the emotion ; but, if we inflict injury, it 
is suddenly done ; we lay no plans, for the purpose. 
Hatred, on the contrary, often causes the person 
who is influenced by it, to lay plans, a long time in 
advance, for the purpose, of inflicting such injury. 

The modes of giving expression to these two 
passions, differ as widely, as the passions them- 
selves. Anger, assumes a high key ; hatred a low 



OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 197 

one. Anger, uses wide, radical skips, in the utter- 
ance; hatred, is very monotonous. Anger, uses 
strong, radical stress ; hatred, requires the thorough 
stress. In the more violent forms of anger, we use 
the aspiration ; to give full expression to hatred, we 
require the guttural vibration. 

The following, from the second part of King 
Henry VI, is a good example of the oral expression 
of hatred, by Suffolk, against King Henry, Warwick, 
and Salisbury. 

" Poison be their drink! 
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest, that they taste ! 
Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees ! 
Their chiefest prospects, murdering basilisks ! 
Their softest touch, as smart, as lizards' stings ! 
Their music, frightful, as the serpent's hiss; 
And, boding screech-owls, make the concert full ! 
All the foul terrors, of dark seated hell!" 

There is another good example, in the address of 
Timon of Athens, to the parasites who had so often 
feasted at his table, and expressed devoted attach- 
ment to him, and yet, were all ready to abandon 
him, the moment he appeared to be in adversity. 
Several, will be found, too, in Shylock. 

Derision, Mockery, Contempt, and Scorn, are all 
allied, in character, and, require similar movements 
of the voice, for their expression ; the unequal wave, 
is the distinguishing element, in all of them. In 
derision and mockery, we assume a high key ; in con- 
tempt and scorn, we use one, much lower. In the 
latter two, the aspiration is required to give full 
force to the expression. 

The following speech, in the Garden, of Gabriel to 
Satan, or, rather the speech at Satan, and to Gabriel's 

19 



198 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

associates, is one of the finest examples of derision 
and mockery, in the language. The part in italics, 
addressed directly to Satan, will come, more properly, 
under the head of scorn. 

" loss of one in heaven, to judge of wise, 
Since Satan fell, whom folly, overthrew ; 
And, now, returns, him, from his prison 'scaped, 
Gravely in doubt, whether to hold them, wise, 
Or not, who ask, what boldness, brought him hither, 
Unlicensed, from his bounds, in hell prescribed. 
So wise, he judges it, to fly from pain, 
However, and, to 'scape his punishment. 
So judge, thou, still, presumptuous, till the wrath, 
Which thou incurrest, by flying, meet thy flight, 
Sevenfold, and, scourge that wisdom, back to hell, 
Which taught, thee, yet, no better, that no pain, 
Can equal anger, infinite, provoked. 
But, wherefore, thou, alone ? wherefore, with thee, 
Came not all hell, broke loose ? Is pain, to them, 
Less pain ? less, to be fled ? or, thou, than they, 
Less hardy, to endure ? Courageous chief ! 
The first, in flight, from pain ! Hadst thou, alleged, 
To thy deserted host, this cause of flight, 
Thou, surely, hadst not come, sole fugitive." 

The part of the above, iu italics, must be read on 
a much lower key, than the rest, and with the thorough 
stress, instead of the median, which is used upon the 
other parts ; and with the simple concrete, instead of 
the unequal waves, except upon the word, ivisdom, 
where the wave is admissible. 

For an example of Scorn, we can find nothing 
better than the address of Satan to Death, at the 
gates of hell. 

"Whence, and, what, art thou, execrable shape, 
That darest, though grim, and terrible, advance 






OBSERVATIONS ON READING AND SPEAKING. 199 

Thy miscreated front, athwart niy way ; 
To yonder gates ? Through them, I mean to pass, 
That, be assured, without leave asked of thee. 
Retire, or, taste thy folly ; and learn, by proof, 
Hell born, not to contend, with spirits of heaven." 

The following extract from Collins' " Ode to the 
Passions," if read dramatically, is a good example 
of the expression of Joy. It should be read, upon a 
comparatively high key, using the median stress, and 
the equal wave of the third upon the long syllables. 
The discrete intervals, between the syllables, either 
rising or falling, should, generally, be thirds, instead 
of single tones, as in the diatonic melody. The voice 
should, also, be perfectly clear and smooth, and en- 
tirely free from all aspiration and guttural vibration. 

"Last, came Joy's ecstatic trial. 
He, with viny crown, advancing, 
First, to the lively pipe, his hand address'd ; 
But, soon, he saw the brisk, awakening, viol, 
Whose sweet, entrancing, voice, he loved the best. 
They, would have thought, who heard the strain, 
They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids, 
Amidst the festal, sounding shades, 
To some unwearied minstrel, dancing. 
While, as his flying fingers, kissed the strings, 
Love, framed, with Mirth, a gay, fantastic, round 
Loose, were her tresses, seen, her zone, unbound ; 
And he, amidst the frolic play, 
As if he would the charming air, repay, 
Shook thousand odors, from his dewy wings." 

The following passages from " Romeo and Juliet," 
are excellent examples, for expressing the emotion 
of Love. They require, for their proper expression, 
great smoothness of voice, a high pitch, and the 



200 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

chromatic melody; the wave of the semitone, should 
be used, upon all the long syllables. 

Romeo. " She speaks ; 

0, speak again, bright angel, for thou art 
As glorious, to this night, being o'er my head, 
As is, a "winged messenger of heaven, 
Unto the white-upturned, wondering eye 
Of mortals, that fall back, to gaze on him, 
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, 
And sails upon the bosom of the air." 

Juliet. " Romeo, Romeo ! wherefore art thou, Romeo ? 
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name ; 
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, 
And I'll, no longer, be a Capulet." 

Juliet. " gentle Romeo, 

If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully ; 
Or, if thou think'st, I am too quickly won, 
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee, nay ; 
(So thou wilt woo) but, else, not for the world. 
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond ; 
And, therefore, thou may'st think my 'havior light 
But, trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true, 
Than those, that have more cunning, to be strange. 
I should have been more strange, I must confess, 
But that, thou overheard' st, ere I was 'ware, 
My true love's passion; therefore, pardon me, 
And not impute this yielding, to light love, 
Which, the dark night, hath so discovered." 



section xvm. 

CONCLUSION OF PART FIRST. 



I have, now, given such a description of the various 
movements, and functions of the voice, and such ex- 
amples, for illustrating those movements and func- 



CONCLUSION OF PART FIRST. 201 

tions, as I have deemed needful, in this part of the 
work. By those who have given close attention, as 
they have progressed, it is hoped, that, the principal 
part, if not the whole, has been comprehended. But, 
this, of itself, is not sufficient. Some of the earlier 
parts, even if well understood, at the time, they were 
the subjects of study, will, probably, have become 
somewhat obscured, in consequence of the attention, 
having been withdrawn from them, to others. A 
thorough review, is, therefore, recommended to all, 
in order to deepen, and fix, upon the mind, the im- 
pressions, that were made by the first reading. And, 
I would advise, that this second reading, should be 
as thorough as the first, so as to imbue the mind, 
with the subject, to as full an extent, as though the 
student, had worked out the whole, by his own in- 
vestigation. In this review, too, the student should 
be quite as earnest, to practice, upon the examples 
given, as in his first reading; in order that he may 
feel certain, at the close of his second reading, that 
he has acquired such command, of the organs of his 
voice, that he can execute, with them, whatever 
movements, his judgment, shall tell him, are needed, 
in any case, that may occur. 

Should any of my readers, think this advice, dis- 
couraging, I would ask them, whether they do not 
find the same process, necessary, in their other 
studies. Which of them, when he had first pro- 
gressed through his arithmetic, his algebra, his geo- 
metry, or his grammar, found himself thoroughly 
acquainted with the subject? Which of them has 
not found, however earnestly he might have studied, 
in his first reading, that he has gained much, by 

19* 



202 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 

repeating the process? If, then, a review, and a 
thorough, review, be necessary, in such studies as the 
above, he need not be disheartened, by being advised 
to try the same process, in his elocution. 

Whilst endeavoring to obtain facility and cer- 
tainty, in practice, upon the different movements 
of the voice, the pupil will, doubtless, often fail, in 
his first attempts, to satisfy either himself, or his 
teacher. But, this should not discourage him. He 
should reflect, that such is frequently the case, with 
every thing, that we endeavor to learn, how to 
perform. The student of music, is often obliged to 
make many efforts, before he can execute, properly, 
some of the notes which are written for him. The 
apprentice, to any mechanical art, has, often, to make 
many attempts, before he acquires such command 
of his hand, and of his tools, as to execute a perfect 
piece of work, however simple it may be. But, by 
continued efforts, and a proper exercise of the will, 
and, of the understanding, they, always, succeed ; 
and, by the same process, you will succeed in exe- 
cuting, with facility, every movement of the voice, 
required in reading, or in speech. 

To the teacher of elocution, and, indeed, to the 
teacher of eyery branch of study, I would say that, 
next to a full understanding, of that which he pro- 
fesses to teach, the most important requisite, is an 
ample stock of patience. He will find many of his 
pupils, who are willing, and, even, anxious to learn, 
who will fail in their first attempts. If he be kind 
and gentle with such, they will repeat their at- 
tempts, willingly, until, at least, partial success is 
attained. But, if he become impatient, and chide, 



CONCLUSION OF PART FIRST. 203 

or scold them, he will, in many cases, deprive them 
of both the will, and the power, to succeed. In order 
to aid himself, in the acquisition of a proper stock, 
of this invaluable article, let him recur, to his own 
progress in learning, and, remember the many 
abortive attempts, he often made, before he suc- 
ceeded, according to his own, or, his teacher's de- 
sire. Such recollections, will greatly aid him, "pro- 
vided his mind be properly constituted. If they do 
not, he may feel certain, that the business of teach- 
ing, is not his proper vocation/ 



EXPLANATION OF THE WOOD-CUTS. 

In section II, the apparatus, by which vocal sounds are 
produced, is briefly described ; but, as the various organs, cannot 
be seen, in the living subject, it has been thought best, to intro- 
duce, here, a representation, of some of the principal of them, to 
aid the student, in the acquisition of a correct knowledge of them. 

FIRST CUT. 

The first figure, is a representation of the larynx, the trachea, 
the lungs, the bronchia and their branches, and the air cells. 1, 1, 
1, represent the outline of the right lung. 2, 2, 2, an outline of 
the left lung. 3 represents the larynx, or the top of the trachea ; 
and 4, the trachea. 5 represents the right bronchial tube, and 6 
the left, bronchial tube. 7, 7, 7, represent the branches of the 
right bronchial tube, and 8, 8, 8, the branches of the left bronchial 
tube. 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, represent the air cells at the termination of 
the minute branches of the bronchia. 

The second figure represents the covering of the larynx. 1, 2, 
is an opening in this covering, called the Glottis. 3, 3, are the 
Chords of the Glottis, at the sides of the opening. 4, 4, are the 
attachments of the chords, to the arytenoid cartilages ; and 5, 5, 
are the arytenoid cartilages. During ordinary respiration, the 
glottis, stands open, as represented in the cut; and, the chords 
of the glottis, are in a relaxed state, so as not to make any 
audible vibrations, as the air passes in and out. But, when we 
are about to make an audible sound, the arytenoid cartilages, 
are drawn back, by muscular contraction, and, the chords of 
the glottis, are thus tightened, when the air is caused to rush, 
forcibly, between, and causes them to vibrate, and produce 
sound. If the chords, are drawn very tight, the vibrations will 
be rapid, and, the pitch of the sound, will be high. If the 
tension of the chords, be less, the vibrations will be less frequent, 
and the pitch of the sound, lower. The loudness of the sound, 
will depend, entirely, upon the force with which, the air is expelled 
through the glottis. 
204 



205 





206 



SECOND CUT. 

The two figures on the second cut represent the shapes of the 
chest and abdomen, and the position of some of the organs thereof, 
in respiration. The figure, on the left, represents them at the 
close of a full inspiration of air ; and, that on the right, at the 
close of a full or forcible expiration. At the end of a full inspira- 




tion the diaphragm, 1, and the covering of the abdomen, 2, have 
the form represented in the figure, on the left. At the close of an 
ordinary expiration, 1, in the figure, on the right, is the position 
assumed by the diaphragm ; and, at the close of a very forcible 
expiration, 3, represents the position assumed by the diaphragm, 
and 2, 2, that assumed by the abdomen. 






PART II 



EXERCISES, IN BEADING, AND DECLAMATION. 






OBSEKVATIONS AND EXPLANATIONS. 



The principles, which should guide the pupil, in his practice 
upon the following lessons, have been all given, in the first part ; 
but to aid the learner, still further, I have concluded, to make a 
very few, preliminary observations, at the commencement of some 
of the lessons, indicating the prominent pitch, or key, to be 
employed, upon each ; the kind of stress, needed, in the reading ; 
the phrases of melody, that should prevail; and, whether the 
melody should be, the diatonic, the chromatic, or the tritonic. 
These observations, must, necessarily be very brief; but, it is 
hoped, they will, be of some use, to the student. 

One great defect, in the reading, of most persons who have been 
taught, in the ordinary, careless, manner, of our common schools, 
is the want of a sufficiency of falling concretes, or slides. I have 
had many pupils, to whom, it seemed almost impossible, to make 
a falling concrete, in reading, at a comma ; and yet, such a slide, 
is, often, needed, when that mark is used. If the teacher, requests 
the pupil, to raise his eyes from the book, and, imitate him, it 
will, generally, be done, correctly ; but, when the eyes are turned, 
again, to the text, there is the comma, and the rising concrete, 
takes the place, of the falling. This is, somewhat discouraging ; 
but, patience, and gentleness, will always succeed, with the pupil, 
who wishes to learn. 

In a part of the following lessons, I have marked, with the 
grave accent ( v ), every syllable, except at the regular cadence, that, 
as I think, ought to have the falling concrete, or slide. All those, not 
thus marked, require the rising concrete. It is scarcely possible, to 
indicate the extent, of each falling concrete, without the use of the 
staff ; and, it would be well for the learner, frequently to write 
the words, over a staff, upon the blackboard, and practice iTpon 



2 OBSERVATIONS. 

them, there. It may be observed that, when, in the bciy of a sen- 
tence, a syllable requires a falling concrete, it is, generally em- 
phatic, and requires the falling concrete of a third, at least. If 
syllables, immediately following the emphatic one, take the fall- 
ing concrete, they, only descend through a single tone. 

It will not be pretended that these marked lessons, cannot be 
tolerably well read, without making all the falling concretes, in- 
dicated ; but, most of them, are indispensable, in order that per- 
fectly clear ideas, shall be communicated, to the hearers. 



PART II. 



(kttmtt in (&ktxdam 



Happiness of Temper. 

In the reading of this lesson, the pitch or key of the voice, should 
be a little above the medium ; the melody, the diatonic, without any 
waves, and, with a general prevalence, of the alternate phase of me- 
lody. The dramatic parts, near the close of the lesson, will vary from 
these directions. 

"Writers, of every age, have endeavored to show, that 
pleasure, is in us ; and not, in the objects, offered for 
our amusement. If the soul, be happily disposed, every 
thing, becomes capable, of affording entertainment ; and 
distress, will almost want a name. Every occurrence, 
passes, in review, like the figures of a procession ; some, 
may be aw^kward ; others, ill dressed ; but, none, but a 
fool, is for this, enraged with the master of the cere- 
monies. 

I remember to have once seen a slave, in a fortifica- 
tion, in Flanders, who appeared no way touched, with 
his situation. He was maimed, deformed, and chained; 
obliged to toil, from the appearance of day, till nightfall ; 
and, condemned to this, for life -, yet, with all these cir- 
cumstances, of apparent wretchedness, he sung, would 
have danced, but, that he wanted a leg, and, appeared 
the merriest, happiest man, of all the garrison. 



4 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

What a practical philosopher, was here ; a happy con- 
stitution, supplied philosophy; and, though, seemingly, 
destitute of wisdom, he was, really, wise. No reading, 
or study, had contributed, to disenchant the fairy-land, 
around him. Every thing, furnished him, with an op- 
portunity of mirth; and, though some thought him, from 
his insensibility, a fool, he was such, an idiot, as philoso- 
phers, should wish to imitate ; for, all philosophy, is only 
forcing the trade of happiness, when Nature, seems to 
have denied the means. 

They, who, like our slave, can place themselves, on 
that side of the world, in which every thing, appears in 
a pleasing light, will find something, in every occurrence, 
to excite their good humor. The most calamitous events, 
either to themselves, or others, can bring no new afflic- 
tion; the whole world, is, to them, a theatre; on which 
comedies, only, are acted. All the bustle of heroism, or the 
rants of ambition, serve only to heighten the absurdity 
of the scene, and make the humor, more poignant. They 
feel, in short, as little anguish, at their own distress, or 
the complaints of others, as the undertaker, though 
dressed in black, feels sorrow, at a funeral. 

Of all the men, I ever read of, the famous Cardinal de 
Eetz\ possessed this happiness of temper, in the highest 
degree. As he was a man of gallantry, and despised all 
that wore the pedantic appearance of philosophy, wher- 
ever pleasure, was to be sold, he was, generally, the 
foremost to raise the auction. Being a universal admirer 
of the fair sex, when he found one lady, cruel, he, gene- 
rally, fell in love, with another ; from whom, he expected 
a more favorable reception. If she, too, rejected his ad- 
dresses, he never thought, of retiring into deserts, or, 
pining, in hopeless distress ; he persuaded himself, that, 
instead of loving the lady, he had only fancied, that he 
loved her; and so, all, was well again. 






IIAPPrftESS OF TEMPER. 5 

When Fortune, wore her angriest look, and he, at last, 
fell into the power, of his most deadly enemy, Cardinal 
Mazarine, (being confined, a closo prisoner, in the castle 
of Valenciennes) he never attempted to support his dis- 
tress, by wisdom, or philosophy ; for, he pretended to 
neither. He only laughed, at himself, and his persecu- 
tor ; and seemed, infinitely pleased, at his new situation. 
In this mansion of distress, though secluded, from his 
friends, though denied all the amusements, and, even the 
conveniences of life, he, still, retained his good humor ; 
laughed, at the little spite of his enemies ; and, carried 
the jest, so far, as to be revenged, by writing the life of 
his gaoler. 

All, that the wisdom of the proud, can teach, is to be 
stubborn, or sullen, under misfortunes. The Cardinal's 
example, will instruct us, to be merry, in circumstances, 
of the highest affliction. It matters not, whether our 
good humor, be construed, by others, into insensibility, 
or even idiotism; it is happiness, to ourselves; and, 
none, but a fool, would measure his satisfaction, by what 
the world, thinks of it. 

The happiest silly fellow, I ever knew, was one of the 
number, of those good-natured creatures, that are said 
to do no harm, to any, but themselves. "Whenever he 
fell into any misery, he called it, "seeing life". If his 
head, was broke by a chairman, or, his pocket, picked by 
a sharper, he comforted himself, by imitating the Hiber- 
nian dialect, of the one, or, the more fashionable cant, 
of the other. Nothing came amiss to him. 

His inattention to money matters, had incensed his 
father, to such a degree, that, all intercession of friends, 
in his favor, was fruitless. 

The old gentleman, was on his death bed. The whole 
family, (and Dick among the number,) gathered around 
him. 

1* 



6 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

" I leave my second son, Andrew," said the expiring 
miser " my whole estate ; and, desire him, to be frugal." 

Andrew, in a sorrowful tone, (as is usual on those oc- 
casions,) prayed Heaven, to prolong his life, and health, 
to enjoy it himself ! 

" I recommend Simon, my third son, to the care of 
his elder brother ; and, leave him, besides, four thousand 
pounds." 

"Ah ! father," cried Simon, (in great affliction to be 
sure,) "may Heaven, give you life, and health, to enjoy 
it yourself!" 

At last, turning to poor Dick, " as for you ; you have 
always been, a sad dog ; you'll never come to good; you'll 
never be rich ; I leave you a shilling, to buy a halter." 

"Ah ! father," cries Dick, without any emotion, " may 
Heaven give you life, and health, to enjoy it yourself !" 



The Militia General. 

This lesson should be read, upon a key somewhat lower than the 
preceding ; but, in other respects, nearly the same. 

Sir, we all know the military studies, of this military 
gentleman, before he was promoted. I take it to be, be- 
yond a reasonable doubt, that he had perused, with great 
care, the title page, of "Baron Steuben." Nay, I go 
further ; I venture to assert, without vouching, in the 
least, from personal knowledge, that he has prosecuted 
his researches, so far, as to be able to know, that the rear 
rank, stands right behind the front. This, I think is 
fairly inferable, from what I understood him to say, of 
the two lines of encampment, at Tippecanoe. We all, in 
fancy, now see the gentleman, in that most dangerous, 
and glorious event, in the life of a militia general, on the 
peace establishment, a parade day ! that day, for whicn 



TIIE MILITIA GENERAL. 7 

all the other days of his life, seem to have been made. 
We can see the troops in motion; umbrellas, hoes and 
axe-handles, and other deadly implements of war, over- 
shadowing all the field ; when, lo ! the leader of the host, 
approaches ! " Far off his coming shines". His plume, 
(which, after the fashion of the great Bourbon, is of 
awful length) reads its doleful history, in the bereaved 
necks, and bosoms, of forty neighbouring hen-roosts. 
Like the great Suwaroff, he seems somewhat careless, in 
forms, or points of dress; hence, his epaulets, may be on 
his shoulders, back, or sides; but, still gleaming, glo- 
riously gleaming, in the sun. Mounted he is too, let it 
not be forgotten. Need I describe, to the colonels, and 
generals, of this honorable House, the steed, which 
heroes bestride, on such occasions? No! I see the 
memory of other days, is with you. You see before you, 
the military gentleman, mounted on his crop-eared, 
bushy-tailed, mare; for height, just fourteen hands, " all 
told" ; yes, sir, there you see his " steed, that laughs, at 
the shaking of the spear"; that, is his war-horse, "whose 
neck, is clothed with thunder." Mr. Speaker, we have 
glowing descriptions, in history, of Alexander, the Great, 
and his war-horse, Bucephalus, at the head of the invin- 
cible Macedonian phalanx; but, sir, such are the improve- 
ments of modern times, that, every one must see, that 
our militia general, with his crop-eared mare, with bushy 
tail, would totally frighten, off a battle-field, a hundred 
Alexanders. The general, thus mounted and equipped, 
is in the field, and, ready for action. On the eve of some 
desperate enterprise, such as giving order to shoulder 
arms, it may be; there occurs, a crisis; one of those acci- 
dents of war, which no sagacity, could see, or prevent. 
A cloud, rises, and, passes over the sun. Here is an oc- 
casion, for the display of that greatest of all traits, in the 
history of a commander; the tact, which enables him, 



8 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

to seize upon, and turn to good account, unlooked-for 
events, as they arise. Now, for the caution, wherewith 
the Eoman Fabius, foiled the skill, and courage, of Han- 
nibal. A retreat is ordered ; and, troops, and general, in 
a twinkling, are found, safely bivouacked, in a neigh- 
boring grocery. But, even here, the general, still, has 
room, for the execution, of heroic deeds. Hot, from the 
field, and, chafed, with the heroic events of the day, 
your general, unsheathes his trenchant blade, eighteen 
inches in length, as you will remember, and, with 
energy, and remorseless fury, he slices the water-melons, 
that lie in heaps around him ; and, shares them, with 
his surviving friends. Others, of the sinews of war, 
are not wanting here. "Whiskey, Mr. Speaker, that 
great leveler of modern times, is here also; and the 
shells, of the water-melons, are filled to the brim. Here 
again, Mr. Speaker, is shown, how the extremes of bar- 
barism, and civilization, meet. As the Scandinavian 
heroes, of ol<J, after the fatigues of war, drank wine, 
from the skulls of their slaughtered enemies, in Odin's 
halls, so, now, our militia general, and his forces, from 
the skulls of the melons, thus vanquished, in copious 
draughts of whiskey, assuage the heroic fires of their 
souls, after a parade day. 



The Winter Evening. 

This extract from Cowper's Task, should be read upon a key, about 
as high, as that of the first lesson, with a free use of the alternate 
phrase, and a strict attention to all the falling concretes. In fact the 
whole piece, requires the pitch, and intonation, of light and pleasant 
discourse. 

JSTow, stir the fire, and, close the shutters fast, 
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, 



WINTER EVENING. 

And, while the bubbling, and loud-hissing urn, 

Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, 

That cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each, 

So, let us welcome peaceful evening in. 

Not such, his evening, who, with shining face, 

Sweats, in the crowded theatre, and, squeezed 

And bored, with elbow-points, through both his sides, 

Outscolds the ranting actor, on the stage. 

Nor his, who, patient stands, till his feet, throb, 

And his head, thumps, to feed upon the breath 

Of patriots, bursting with heroic rage; 

Or placemen, all tranquility and smiles. 

This folio, of four pages, happy work ! 

Which, not even critics, criticise, that holds 

Inquisitive attention, while I read, 

Fast bound, in chains of silence, which the fair, 

Though eloquent themselves, yet fear to break, 

What is it, but a map of busy life, 

Its fluctuations, and, its vast concerns ? 

Here, runs the mountainous and craggy ridge, 

That tempts Ambition. On the summit, see 

The seals of office, glitter in his efea ; 

He climbs, he pants, he grasps them ! At his heels, 

Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends, 

And, with a dexterous jerk, soon twists him down, 

And wins them ; but, to lose them, in his turn, 

Here, rills of oily eloquence, in soft 

Meanders, lubricate the course they take ; 

The modest speaker, is ashamed, and grieved, 

To engross a moment's notice ; and yet, begs, 

Begs a propitious ear, for his poor thoughts ; 

However trivial, all that he conceives. 

Sweet bashfulness ! it claims, at least, this praise; 

The dearth of information, and good sense, 

That it foretells us, always comes to pass. 



10 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Cataracts of declamation, thunder, here ; 

There, forests of no meaning, spread the page ; 

In which, all comprehension, wanders, lost 3 

While fields of pleasantry, amuse us, there, 

With merry descants, on a nation's woes. 

The rest, appears a wilderness, of strange, 

But gay, confusion ; roses, for the cheeks, 

And lilies, for the brows, of faded age, 

Teeth, for the toothless, ringlets, for the bald, 

Heaven, earth, and ocean, plundered of their sweets, 

Nectareous essences, Olympian dews, 

Sermons, and city feasts, and favorite airs, 

^Ethereal journeys, submarine exploits, 

And, Katterfelto, with his hair on end, 

At his own wonders, wondering for his bread. 



A Discourse on Paper. 

This light and playful piece, of Franklin, requires nearly the same 
management of voice, as the preceding ; but, the pitch should be rather 
higher, except on the last stanza, •which should be read upon a key, 
considerably lower, and, with longer quantity, upon such syllables, as 
will bear extension. 

Some wit, of old, such wits, of old, there were, 
Whose hints, showed meaning, whose allusions, care, 
Ey one brave stroke, to mark all human kind, 
Called clear, blank, paper, every infant mind ; 
Where, still, as opening sense, her dictates wrote, 
Fair Yirtue, put a seal, or, Yice, a blot. 
The thought was happy, pertinent, and true. 
Methinks, a genius, might, the plan, pursue. 
I, (can you pardon my presumption ?) I, 
No wit, no genius, yet, for once, will try. 



DISCOURSE ON PAPER. 11 

Various the papers, various wants, produce ; 
The wants of fashion, elegance, and use. 
Men, are, as various, and, if right I scan, 
Each sort of paper, represents some man. 

Pray note the fop, half powder, and half lace ; 
Nice, as a bandbox, were his dwelling place. 
He's, the gilt-paper, which, apart, you store, 
And, lock, from vulgar hands, in the scrutoire. 

Mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth, 
Are copy-paper, of inferior worth ; 
Less prized, more useful, for your desk, decreed ; 
Free, to all pens, and prompt, at every need. 

The wretch, whom avarice, bids, to pinch and spare, 
Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir, 
Is coarse brown paper ; such as pedlars, choose, 
To wrap up wares; which, better men, will use. 

Take, next, the miser's contrast, who destroys 
Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys. 
"Will any paper,, match him ? Yes, throughout ; 
He's a true sinking paper, past all doubt. 

The retail politician's anxious thought, 
Deems this side, always right, and that, stark naught, 
He foams, with censure, with applause, he raves; 
A dupe, to rumors, and, a tool, to knaves. 
He'll want no type, his weakness, to proclaim, 
While such a thing, as fool's-cap, has a name. 

The hasty gentleman, whose blood, runs high, 
Who picks a quarrel, if you step, awry, 
Who can't, a jest, a hint, or look, endure, 
What is he ? What ? Touch-paper, to be sure. 

What, are our poets ? (take them, as they fall, 
Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read, at all) 
Them, and their works, in the same class, you'll find; 
They are, the mere waste-paper, of mankind. 



12 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Observe the maiden, innocently sweet ; 
She's fair white-paper, an unsullied sheet ; 
On which, the happy man, whom fate ordains, 
May write his name ; and, take her, for his pains. 

One instance, more, and, only one, I'll bring ; 
'Tis the great man, who scorns a little thing j 
Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims, are his 

own; 
Formed, on the feelings of his heart, alone. 
True, genuine, royal-paper, is his breast, 
Of all the kinds, most precious, purest, best. 



Report of an Adjudged Case. 

The intonation, and key, upon this piece should be nearly the same, 
as upon the early stanzas of the last, so far as the mere narrative parts 
are concerned ; but, the arguments, of the lawyer,* should have longer 
time, and a lower key. 

Between Nose, and Eyes, a strange contest, arose ; 

The spectacles, set them, unhappily, wrong ; 
The point, in dispute, was, all the world knows, 

To which, the said spectacles, ought to belong. 

So the tongue, was the lawyer, and, argued the cause, 
"With a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning ; 

While chief baron Ear, sat, to balance the laws ; 
So famed, for his talent, in nicely discerning. 

In behalf, of the Nose, it will quickly appear, 

And your lordship, he said, will, undoubtedly, find, 

That the Nose, has had spectacles, always, in wear ; 
Which amounts, to possession, time out of mind. 



REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CA 13 

Then, holding tho spectacles, up to the court, 
Your lordship observes, they are made, with a straddle, 

As wide, as the ridgo of tho Nose is ; in short, 
Designed to fit close to it, just like a saddle. 

Again, would your lordship, a moment, suppose, 
('Tis a case, that has happened, and may be, again) 

That the visage, or countenance, had not a Nose : 
Pray, who would, or, who could, wear spectacles, 
then? 

On the whole, it appears, and, my argument shows, 
With a reasoning, the court, will never condemn, 

That the spectacles, plainly, were made, for the Nose; 
And the Nose, was, as plainly, intended for them. 

Then, shifting his side, as a lawyer, knows how, 
He pleaded, again, in behalf of the Eyes ; 

But, what were his arguments, few people know; 
For the court, did not think, they were equally wise. 

So, his lordship decreed, with a grave, solemn, tone, 
Decisive and clear, without one if, or but, 

That, whenever the Nose, put his spectacles on, 
By daylight, or candlelight, Eyes, should be shut. 



Falstaff's Ragged Regiment. 

In the reading of this lesson, the key should be lower than, in 
either of the preceding. The alternate phrase should prevail, as in 
all the preceding ; and, there should be a slight use of the Tremor, 
upon the interval of the tone, upon the more facetious parts. This 
tremor, sparingly used, will indicate the sardonic exultation of 
FalstafF, at the success of his cunning. 

If I be not ashamed, of my soldiers, I am,li soused 
gurnet. I have misused the king's press, damnably. 

21 



14 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

I have got, in exchange of an hundred and fifty soldiers, 
three hundred, and odd, pounds. I press me, none but 
good householders, yeomen's sons; inquire me out, con- 
tracted bachelors; such, as have been asked, twice, on 
the banns ; such, as fear the report of a calivre, worse 
than a stuck fowl, or a hurt wild duck. I press me, 
none, but such toasts and butter, with hearts, in their 
bellies, no bigger, than pins' heads; and they, have 
bought out, their services. And now, my whole charge, 
consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen 
of companies; slaves, as ragged as Lazarus, in the 
painted cloth, and, such as, indeed, were never soldiers ; 
but, discarded, unjust, serving-men; younger sons, to 
younger brothers; revolted tapsters, and, ostlers, trade- 
fallen ; the cankers, of a calm world, and a long peace ; 
and, such, have I, to fill up the room of them, that have 
bought out their services, that, you would think, I had 
a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come, 
from swine-keeping; from eating draff and husks. A 
mad fellow, met me, on the way, and told me, I had 
unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. 
ISTo eye, has seen such scare-crows. I'll not march, 
through Coventry, that's fiat. Kay, and the villains, 
march wide, betwixt the legs, as if they had gfves on ; 
for, indeed, I had the most of them, out of prison. 
There's but a shirt, and a half, in all my company; and 
the half shirt, is two napkins, tacked together, and, 
thrown over the shoulders, like a herald's coat, without 
sleeves; and, the shirt, to say the truth, stolen, froni 
my host, of St. Alban's, or the red-nosed innkeeper, of 
Daintry. But that's all one ; they'll find linen enough, 
on every hedge. "And, as for the rest," Tut, tut, 
"they're good enough, to toss. Mortal men, mortal 
men ! " fair" food, for powder ; they'll fill a pit, as wel] 
as better; "or, stand as well, in the mouth, of a cannon." 



SAINT NICHOLAS. 15 



Saint Nicholas. 

This lesson requires nearly the same key, and movements of the 
voice, as Franklin's playful Essay upon Paper. 

'Twas the night, before Christmas, when, all through 

the house, 
Not a creature, was stirring ; not even, a mouse. 
The stockings, were hung, by the chimney, with care, 
In the hope, that St. Nicholas, soon would be there. 
The children, were nestled, all snug in their beds, 
"While visions, of sugar-plums, danced in their heads ; 
And, mamma, in her kerchief, and I, in my cap, 
Had just settled our brains, for a long winter's nap; 
When, out on the lawn, there rose, such a clatter, 
1 sprang, from the bed, to see, what was the matter. 
Away, to the window, I flew, like a flash, 
Tore open the shutters, and, threw up the sash. 
JThe moon, on the breast, of the new-fallen snow, 
Gave the lustre, of mid-day, to objects, below. 
When, what, to my wondering eyes, should appear, 
But a miniature sleigh, and eight, tiny, reindeer ? 
With a little, old, driver, so lively, and quick, 
I knew, in a moment, it must be, St. Nick. 
More rapid, than eagles, his coursers, they came ; 
And, he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name; 
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! now, 

Yixen ! 
On, Comet ! on, Cupid ! on, Dunder, and Blixen ! 
To the top, of the porch ! to the top, of the wall ! 
Now, dash away ! dash away ! dash away, all !" 
As dry leaves, before the wild hurricane, fly, 
When they meet, with an obstacle, mount to the sky, 
So, up to the house top, the coursers, they flew, 
With the sleigh, full of toys, and St. Nicholas, too ; 



16 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

And then, in a twinkling, I heard, on the roof, 

The prancing and pawing, of each little hoof; 

As I drew in my head, and, was turning around, 

Down the chimney, St. Nicholas, came, with a bound. 

He was dressed, all in fur, from his head, to his foot ; 

And his clothes, were all tarnished, with ashes and soot; 

A bundle of toys, was flung, on his back ; 

And he looked, like a pedlar, just opening his pack; 

His eyes, how they twinkled ! his dimples, how merry ! 

His cheeks, were like roses, his nose, like a cherry ; 

His droll little mouth, was drawn up, like a bow ; 

And the beard, of his chin, was as white, as the snow ; 

The stump, of a pipe, he held, tight, in his teeth ; 

And the smoke, it encircled his head, like a wreath. 

He had a broad face, and a little, round belly, 

That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl, full of jelly. 

He was chubby, and plump; a right jolly, old elf; 

And, I laughed, when I saw him, in spite of myself. 

A wink, of his eye, and a twist, of his head, 

Soon gave me to know, I had nothing to dread ; 

He spoke not a wbrd; but, went straight to his work, 

And filled all his stockings ; then, turned, with a jerk, 

And, laying his finger, aside of his nose, 

And giving a nod, up the chimney, he rose. 

He sprang, to his sleigh, to his team, gave a whistle, 

Away, they all flew, like the down of a thistle; 

But, I heard him exclaim, ere he drove, out of sight, 

"Merry Christmas, to all; and, to all, a good night/' 



the old cheese, 17 

The Old Ciieese; or, The Husband only fit to 
be Euled. 

This facetious piece, requires, in the narrative parts, a key as high 
as any of the others, short time, and a free use of the alternate 
phrase of melody. When Slouch is speaking, the key should be low, 
the melody less varied, and the Thorough stress be employed. When 
Sue is speaking, the key should be an octave higher, and the Me- 
dium stress be used, combined with great smoothness of voice. 

Young Slouch, the farmer, had a jolly wife, 
That knew, all the conveniences, of life; 
Whose diligence and cleanliness, supplied 
The wit, which, nature, had, to him, denied; 
But, then, she had a tongue, that would be heard, 
And, make, a better man, than Slouch, afeard. 
This, made censorious persons, of the town, 
Say, Slouch, could, hardly, call his soul, his own ; 
For, if he went abroad, too much, she'd use, 
To give him slippers ; and, lock up, his shoes. 
Talking, he loved, and ne'er, was more afflicted, 
Than, when he was disturbed, or contradicted ; 
Yet still, into his story, she would break, 
With, u 'Tis not so; Pray give me, leave, to speak. " 

His friends, thought this, was a tyrannic rule ; 
ISTot differing, much, from calling him a fool ; 
Told him, he must exert himself, and be, 
In fact, the master of his family. 

He said, "That, the next Tuesday noon, would show, 
Whether, he were the lord, at home, or no ; 
When, their good company, he would entreat, 
To well-brewed ale, and, clean, if homely, meat." 

With aching heart, home, to his wife, he goes; 
And, on his knees, does his rash act, disclose ; 
21* 



18 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

And prays dear Sukey, that, one day, at least, 
He might appear, as master, of the feast. 

" I'll grant your wish," cries Sue, " that, you may see, 
'Twere wisdom, to be governed, still, by me." 

The guests, upon the day appointed, came ; 
Each bowsy farmer, with his simpering dame. 
"Ho, Sue I" cries Slouch, "why dost thou not appear? 
Are these, thy manners, when Aunt Snap, is here V* 
"I pardon ask," says Sue, "I'd not offend 
Any, my dear invites, much less, his friend." 

Slouch, by his kinsman Gruny, had been taught, 
To entertain his friends, by finding fault ; 
And, make the main ingredient, of his treat, 
His saying, "there was nothing, fit to eat, 
The boiled pork, stinks ; the roast beef's, not enough ; 
The bacon's, rusty; and the hens, are tough; 
The veal's, all rags; the butter's, turned to oil; 
And thus, I buy good meat, for sluts to spoil. 

"'Tis we, are the first Slouches, ever sat 
Down to a pudding, without plums, or fat ; 
What teeth, or stomach's, strong enough, to feed 
Upon a goose, my grannum, kept, to breed ? 
Why must old pigeons, and they, stale, be drest, 
When there's so many squab ones, in the nest? 
This beer, is sour; this, musty, thick, and stale; 
And, worse than any thing, except the ale." 

Sue, all this while, many excuses, made ; 
Some things, she owned ; at other times, she laid 
The fault, on chance ; but, oftener, on the maid. 



REPLY OF MR. PITT. 19 

Then Cheese, was brought. Says Slouch, "This, e'en 
shall roll ; 
I'm sure, 'tis hard enough, to make a bowl ; 
This, is skimmed milk, and, therefore, it shall go; 
And this, because His Suffolk, follow too." 

But, now, Sue's patience, did begin to waste; 
Nor longer, could dissimulation, last. 
"Pray let me rise/' says she, "my dear ! I'll find 
A cheese, perhaps, may be to Lovy's mind !" 
Then, in an entry, standing close, where he, 
Alone, and none, of all his friends, might see, 
And, brandishing a cudgel, he had felt, 
And, far enough, on this occasion, smelt, 
"I'll try, my joy I" she cried, "if I can please 
My dearest, with a taste, of his Old Cheese V 

Slouch, turning round, saw his wife's vigorous hand, 
Wielding her oaken sapling, of command. 
He knew the twang. "Is't the Old Cheese, my dear? 
No need, no need, of Cheese," cries Slouch, " I'll swear, 
I think I've dined, as well as my Lord Mayor !" 



Reply of Mr. Pitt, 

(THE LATE EARL OP CHATHAM,) 

TO THE charge of youthful inexperience, and 
theatrical animation. 

In reading this speech, the pitch or key, should be below the me- 
dium, the melody, much less varied than in any of the former lessons. 
The time should be slower, and the force much greater, than any of 
the preceding. 

The atrocious crime, of being a young man, which the 
honorable gentleman, has, with such spirit, and decency, 



20 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

charged upon me, I shall neither, attempt to palliate, nor 
deny; but, content myself, with wishing, that I, maybe 
one of those, whose follies, cease, with their youth; and, 
not of that number, who are ignorant, in spite of ex- 
perience. 

Whether youth, can be imputed, to any man, as a re- 
proach, I will not assume the province, of determining ; 
but, surely, age, may become justly contemptible, if the 
opportunities, which it brings, have passed away, with- 
out improvement; and, vice, appears to prevail, when 
the passions, have subsided. The wretch, that, after 
having seen the consequences, of a thousand errors, con- 
tinues still to blunder, and, whose age, has only added 
obstinacy to stupidity, is surely, the object, of either 
abhorrence, or contempt; and, deserves not, that his 
gray head, should secure him, from insults. Much more, 
is he, to be abhorred, who, as he has advanced in age, 
has receded from virtue; and, becomes more wicked, 
with less temptation ; who prostitutes himself, for money, 
which he cannot enjoy; and, spends the remains of his 
life, in the ruin of his country. 

But, youth, is not my only crime. I have been ac- 
cused, of acting a theatrical part. 

A theatrical part, may, either, imply some pecu- 
liarities of gesture, or, a dissimulation, of my real senti- 
ments, and the adoption, of the opinions and language, 
of another man. 

In the first sense, the charge is too trifling, to be con- 
futed ; and, deserves, only, to be mentioned, that, it may 
be despised. I am, at liberty, like every other man, to 
use my own language; and, though I may, perhaps, 
have some ambition, yet, to please this gentleman, I 
shall not lay myself, under any restraint; or, very soli- 
citously, copy his diction, or his mien ; however, ma- 
tured, by age, or, modelled, by experience. 



TIIE MILLENNIUM. 21 

If any man shall, by charging me, with theatrical 
behavior, imply, that I utter any sentiments, but my 
own, I shall treat him, as a calumniator, and a villain ; 
nor, shall any protection, shelter him, from the treat- 
ment, which ho deserves. I shall, upon such an occa- 
sion, without scruple, trample upon all those forms, 
with which wealth and dignity, intrench themselves; 
nor, shall anything, but age, restrain my resentment; 
age, which always brings one privilege ; that, of being 
insolent, and supercilious, without punishment. 

But, with regard to those, whom I have offended, I 
am of opinion, that, if I had acted a borrowed part, I 
should have avoided their censure. The heat, which 
offended them, is the ardor of conviction ; and that zeal, 
for the service of my country, which neither hope, nor 
fear, shall influence me, to suppress. I will not sit, un- 
concerned, while my liberty is invaded; nor, look, in 
silence, upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavors, 
at whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and, drag the 
thief, to justice; what power, soever, may protect the 
villany, and, whoever, may partake of the plunder. 



The Millennium. 



In this lesson, the key, should be rather below the medium, the 
quantity, should be long, and the median stress, employed^ through- 
out. In the earlier parts, the melody should be the diatonic, using 
the Wave of the Tone, or Second, and a prevalence of the phrase of 
the Monotone. But, when we arrive at the words, " Oh scenes sur- 
passing fable," we should adopt the Tritonic melody, and, continue it, 
to the end. 

The groans of nature, in this nether world, 
Which Heaven has heard, for ages, have an end. 



22 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Foretold, by prophets, and, by poets sung, 
Whose fire, was kindled, at the prophets' lamp, 
The time of rest, the promised sabbath, comes. 
Six thousand years of sorrow, have, well nigh, 
Fulfilled their tardy, and disastrous course, 
Over a sinful world ; and, what remains, 
Of this tempestuous state, of human things, 
Is, merely, as the working of a sea, 
Before a calm, that rocks itself, to rest. 
For He, whose car, the winds are, and the clouds, 
The dust, that waits upon his sultry march, 
When sin, hath moved him, and his wrath, is hot, 
Shall visit Earth, in mercy; shall descend, 
Propitious, in his chariot, paved with love; 
And, what his storms, have blasted, and defaced, 
For man's revolt, shall, with a smile, repair. 

Sweet, is the harp of prophecy ; too sweet, 
Not to be wronged, by a mere mortal touch ; 
Nor, can the wonders, it records, be sung, 
To meaner music, and not suffer loss. 
But, when a poet, or, when one, like me, 
Happy, to rove, among poetic flowers, 
Though poor, in skill, to rear them, lights, at last, 
On some fair theme, some theme, divinely fair, 
Such is the impulse, and the spur, he feels, 
To give it praise, proportioned to its worth, 
That, not to attempt it, arduous, as he deems 
The labor, were a task, more arduous, still. 

scenes, surpassing fable, and, yet, true ! 
Scenes of accomplished bliss ! which, who can see, 
Though but in distant prospect, and, not feel 
His soul, refreshed, with foretaste of the joy? 
Eivers of gladness, water all the Earth, 



THE MILLENNIUM. 23 

And, clothe all climes, with beauty; the reproach, 

Of barrenness, is past. The fruitful field, 

Laughs with abundance j and, the land, once lean, 

Or, fertile, only, in its own disgrace, 

Exults, to sec its thistly curse, repealed. 

The various seasons, woven into one, 

And that, one season, an eternal spring, 

The garden, fears no blight, and, needs no fence; 

For, there is none to covet; all, are full. 

The lion, and, the libbard, and the bear, 

Graze, with the fearless flocks; all bask, at noon, 

Together, or, all gambol, in the shade 

Of the same grove, and, drink one common stream. 

Antipathies, are none. No foe, to man, 

Lurks, in the serpent now; the mother sees, 

And, smiles to see, her infant's playful hand, 

Stretched forth, to dally, with the crested worm; 

To stroke his azure neck, or, to receive 

The lambent homage, of his arrowy tongue. 

All creatures, worship man ; and, all mankind, 

One Lord, one Father. Error, has no place; 

That creeping pestilence, is driven away; 

The breath of Heaven, has chased it. In the heart, 

No passion, touches a discordant string ; 

But, all is harmony, and love. Disease, 

Is not; the pure, and uncontaminate, blood, 

Holds its due course, nor, fears the frost of age. 

One song, employs all nations; and, all cry, 

"Worthy the Lamb, for, he was slain, for us!" 

The dwellers, in the vales, and, on the rocks, 

Shout to each other, and the mountain tops, 

From distant mountains, catch the flying joy; 

Till, nation, after nation, taught the strain, 

Earth, rolls the rapturous Hosanna, round. 

Behold the measure, of the promise, filled ! 



24 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

See Salem, built, the labor of a God ! 

Bright, as a sun, the sacred city, shines; 

All kingdoms, and, all princes, of the Earth, 

Flock, to that light ; the glory, of all lands, . 

Flows into her; unbounded, is her joy, 

And, endless, her increase. Thy rams, are there, 

Nebaioth, and, the flocks of Kedar, there; 

The looms, of Ormus, and, the mines, of Ind, 

And, Saba's spicy groves, pay tribute, there. 

Praise, is in all her gates; upon her walls, 

And, in her streets, and in her spacious courts, 

Is heard salvation. Eastern Java, there 

Kneels, with the native, of the farthest west; 

And Ethiopia, spreads abroad the hand, 

And worships. Her report, has travelled forth, 

Into all lands. From every clime, they come, 

To see thy beauty, and to share thy joy, 

O Sion ! an assembly, such as Earth, 

Saw never; such as Heaven, stoops down, to see. 



On War. 



In the reading of this, the pitch should be below the medium, the 
quantity, moderately long, and the melody, not more varied, than 
in the early parts of the Millennium. 

On every side of me, I see causes at work, which go 
to spread a most delusive coloring, over war, and to re- 
move, altogether, its shocking barbarities, to the back- 
ground, of our contemplations. I see it, in the history, 
which tells me, of the superb appearance, of the troops, 
and the brilliancy, of their successive charges. I see it, 
in the poetry, which lends the magic of its numbers, to 
the narrative of blood, and, transports its many admi- 






ON WAR. 25 

rers; as by its images, and its figures, and its nodding 
plumes of chivalry, it throws its treacherous embellish- 
ments, over a scene, of legalized slaughter. 

I seo it, in the music, which represents the progress 
of the battle; and, where, after being inspired, by the 
trumpet-notes of preparation, the whole beauty, and 
tenderness, of a drawing-room, are seen, to bend over 
the sentimental entertainment ; nor, do I hear the utter- 
ance, of a single sigh, to interrupt the death-tones, of 
the thickening contest, and, the moans of the wounded 
men, as they fade away, upon the ear, and sink, into 
lifeless silence. 

All, all, goes to prove what strange, and half-sighted, 
creatures we are. "Were it not so, war, could never have 
been seen, in any other aspect, than that of unmingled 
hatefalness ; and, I can look to nothing, but the progress 
of Christian sentiment, upon earth, to arrest the strong 
current, of the popular, and prevailing, partiality for 
war. 

Then, only, will an imperious sense of duty, lay the 
check, of severe principle, on all the subordinate tastes, 
and faculties, of our nature. Then, will glory, be reduced 
to its right estimate ; and, the wakeful benevolence, of 
the gospel, chasing away every spell, will be turned, by 
the treachery of no delusion, whatever, from its simple, 
but sublime, enterprises, for the good of the species. 
Then, the reign of truth, and quietness, will be ushered, 
into the world; and, war, cruel, atrocious, unrelenting, 
war, will be stripped, of its many, and its bewildering, 
fascinations. 



22 



26 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



Clarence's Dream. 

In this piece the pitch should be decidedly low, in all the narrative 
parts, the monotone, should prevail, and the time be decidedly slow. 
In the more dreadful parts of the description, a little aspiration, should 
be mingled with the vocality, in order to display the terror, which 
such terrible apparitions, were calculated to produce. When Warwick 
speaks, the reading should be much louder, and the Thorough stress 
be employed. When the "shadow like an angel," speaks, the voice 
should, also, be very loud, and the pitch, much raised. 

Oh, I have passed a miserable night ; 
So full, of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, 
That, as I am a Christian, faithful, man, 
I would not spend another, such a night, 
Though it were, to buy a world of happy days; 
So full, of dismal terror, was the time. 
Methought, that I had broken, from the tower, 
And, was embarked, to cross to Burgundy; 
And, in my company, my brother Gloster; 
Who, from my cabin, tempted me, to walk 
Upon the hatches; thence, we looked, toward England; 
And, cited up, a thousand heavy times, 
During the wars, of York and Lancaster, 
That had befallen us. As we paced along, 
Upon the giddy footing, of the hatches, 
Methought, that Gloster, stumbled; and, in falling, 
Struck me, that sought to stay him, overboard, 
Into the tumbling billows, of the main. 
O Lord ! methought, what pain, it was to drown; 
What dreadful noise, of water, in my ears; 
What sights, of ugly death, within mine eyes ! 
Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; 
A thousand men, that fishes gnawed upon; 
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels; 



clarence's dream. 27 

All scattered, in the bottom of the scii; 

Some, lay, in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes, 

Where eyes, did once inhabit, there were crept, 

(As it were in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems, 

That wooed the slimy bottom, of the deep, 

And, mocked the dead bones, that lay, scattered by. 

Oh! then, began, the tempest to my soul! 

I passed, methought, the melancholy flood 
With that grim ferryman, which poets write of, 
Unto the kingdom, of perpetual night. 
The first, that there, did greet my stranger soul, 
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick; 
Who cried, aloud, "What scourge, for perjury, 
Can this dark monarchy, afford false Clarence?" 
And, so, he vanished. Then came, wandering by, 
A shadow, like an angel, with bright hair, 
Dabbled in blood; and, he, shrieked out, aloud, 
" Clarence is come! false, fleeting, perjured, Clarence! 
That stabbed me, in the field, by Tewksbury; 
Seize on him, furies ; take him, to your torments !" 
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends, 
Environed me, and howled, in mine ears, 
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, 
I, trembling, waked ; and, for a season after, 
Could not believe, but that, I was in hell; 
Such terrible impression, made my dream. 



Battle of "Waterloo. 

A proper reading of this extract, from "Childe Harold," requires 
much variation in pitch, melody, and intonation. The first stanza, 
with the exception of the last line, is plain narrative, that presents 
nothing, but pleasant pictures, to the mind. It should, therefore, 
be read in the simplest diatonic melody, upon a key a little above 



28 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

the medium, with a free use of the alternate phrase of melody. But, 
in the last line, and, the first half of the first line, of the second 
stanza, the idea presented, is that of fear, or dread ; and, to express 
this, the voice should drop to the lowest key. The phrase of the 
monotone, should prevail ; and, the aspiration should be mingled, with 
the vocality, of every syllable. 

In reading the answer to the question, in the second stanza, the 
voice should be raised, to a high key, the alternate phrase, be, again, 
adopted, and, the force, be much increased. At the commencement 
of the sixth line, of this stanza, the voice must again be dropt to the 
lowest key, the quantity, or time, be much lengthened, the monotone, 
be freely used, and the force be strong, with the median stress. On 
the last line, of this stanza, the voice should be raised to the medium 
key, the radical stress, be adopted, and, the force of the voice, be in- 
creased, to its utmost extent. 

The third stanza, should be read upon a key, rather below the me- 
dium, with long time, median stress, and a prevalence of the monotone. 

The fourth stanza, is plaintive, in its character ; and, therefore, the 
chromatic melody, should be employed upon it, with slow time, and 
the median stress. The key, should be nearly the same, as in the 
third stanza. 

In the fifth stanza, the melody must be changed, again to the dia- 
tonic. The radical stress, be employed, and, the force, greatly in- 
creased. The key should be raised a little above that, upon the third 
and fourth stanzas. The exclamations, at the end of the stanza, 
should be upon a very low key, and, the aspiration, be used, freely. 

The sixth stanza should be read, in all respects, like the fifth, ex- 
cept that there must be no dropping of the key, or, use of the aspira- 
tion, at the end. 

The seventh, is plaintive in its character, like the fourth ; and, the 
same instruction, will apply to it. 

The last stanza, is also, plaintive, in character, and the ideas sug- 
gested, especially, towards its close, are melancholy. The pitch, or 
key, should, therefore, be rather lower, than on the fourth and 
seventh stanzas ; and, the cadence at the end, should be made upon 
the lowest notes, the voice can sound. 

There was a sound, of revelry, by night, 
And Belgium's capital, had gathered, then, 
Her beauty, and her chivalry ; and, bright, 
The lamps shone, o'er fair women, and brave men; 



BATTLE OP WATERLOO. 29 

A thousand hearts, beat, happily; and, when 

Music, arose, with its voluptuous swell, 

Soft eyes, looked love, to eyes, which spake again; 

And, all went, merry, as a marriage bell ; 

" But, hush ! hark ! a deep sound, strikes, like a rising 

knell! 
Did you not hear it V " No, 'twas but the wind, 
Or the car, rattling o'er the stony street; 
On, with the dance; let joy, be unconfined; 
No sleep, till morn, when Youth, and Pleasure, meet, 
To chase the glowing hours, with flying feet." 
"But, hark ! that heavy sound, breaks in, once more; 
As if the clouds, its echo, would repeat ; 
And, nearer, clearer, deadlier, than before ! 
Arm r ! arm r ! it is, it is, the cannon's opening roar !" 

Within a windowed niche, of that high hall, 
Sat Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear 
That sound, the first, amidst the festival, 
And, caught its tone, with Death's prophetic ear; 
And, when they smiled, because he deemed it, near, 
His heart, more truly, knew that peal, too well, 
Which stretched his father, on a bloody bier, 
And, roused the vengeance, blood alone, could quell ; 
He rushed, into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell. 

Ah ! then, and there, was hurrying, to and fro, 
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
And cheeks, all pale, which, but an hour ago, 
Blushed, at the praise, of their own loveliness. 
And, there were sudden partings ; such, as press 
The life, from out young hearts; and choking sighs, 
Which ne'er, might be repeated; who could guess, 
If, ever more? should meet, those mutual eyes ; 
Since, upon night, so sweet, such awful morn, could rise? 

22* 



30 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

And, there was mounting, in hot haste ; the steed, 
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, 
Went, pouring forward, with impetuous speed, 
And, swiftly forming, in the ranks of war ; 
And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar ; 
And, near, the beat of the alarming drum, 
Boused up the soldier, ere the morning star; 
While, thronged the citizens, with terror dumb, 
Or, whispering, with white lips, " The foe ! They come ! 
they come I" 

And, wild and high, the "Camerons' gathering" rose; 
The war note, of Lochiel ; which, Albyn's hills, 
Have heard, and, heard too, have her Saxon foes. 
How, in the noon of night, that pibroch, thrills, 
Savage and shrill ! But, with the breath, which fills 
Their mountain-pipe, so, fill the mountaineers, 
With the fierce native daring, which instils 
The stirring memory, of a thousand years ; 
And Evan's, Donald's, fame, rings, in each clansman's 
ears! 

And, Ardennes, waves, above them, her green leaves, 
Dewy, with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, 
Grieving, if aught inanimate, e'er grieves, 
Over the unreturning brave ; alas ! 
Ere evening, to be trodden, like the grass, 
Which, now beneath them, but, above, shall grow, 
In its next verdure, when, this fiery mass, 
Of living valor, rolling on the foe, 
And, burning with high hope, shall moulder, cold, and 
low. 

Last noon, beheld them, full of lusty^iife ; 
Last eve, in Beauty's circle, proudly gay; 



LECTURE ON ASTRONOMY. 31 

The midnight, brought the signal sound of strife ; 
The morn, the marshalling in arms; the day, 
Battle's magnificently-stern array. 
The thunder-clouds, close o'er it, which, when rent, 
The earth, is covered, thick, with other clay, 
"Which her own clay, shall cover, heap'd and pent; 
Rider, and horse, friend, foe, in one, red, burial, blent. 



Lecture on Astronomy. 

BY JOHN PHOENIX. 

The Sun. — This glorious orb of day, may be seen, 
almost any clear day, by looking, intently, in its direc- 
tion, through a piece of smoked glass. Through this 
medium, it appears about the size of a large orange ; 
and, of much the same color. It is, however, somewhat 
larger; being, in fact, eight hundred and eighty-seven 
thousand miles, in diameter; containing a volume of 
matter, equal, to fourteen hundred thousand globes, of 
the size of the earth ; which is, certainly, a matter of no 
small importance. Through the telescope, it appears, 
like an enormous globe of fire, with many spots upon its 
surface; which, unlike those of the leopard, are con- 
tinually changing. These spots, were first discovered, 
by a gentleman named, Galileo, in the year 1611. 
Though the sun, is, usually, termed and considered, the 
luminary of day, it may not be uninteresting, to our 
readers, to know that, it, certainly, has been seen, in the 
night. A scientific friend of ours, from New England, 
Mr. R. W. Emerson, while travelling, through the northern 
part of Norway, with a cargo of tin-ware, on the 21st 
of June, 1836, distinctly saw the sun, in all its majesty, 
shirimg, at midnight ! in fact, shining all night ! Emer- 



32 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

son, is not, what you would call, a superstitious man, by 
any means ; but, he left ! Since that time, many per- 
sons, have observed its nocturnal appearance, in that 
part of the country, at the same time of the year. This 
phenomenon, has never been witnessed, in the latitude 
of San Diego, however, and, it is very improbable, that 
it ever will be. Sacred history, informs us, that a dis- 
tinguished military man, named Joshua, once, caused 
the sun, to "stand still"; how, he did it, is not men- 
tioned. There can, of course, be no doubt of the fact, 
that he arrested its progress ; and, possibly, caused it to 
"stand still"; but, translators, are not always perfectly 
accurate; and, we, are inclined to the opinion, that, it 
might have wiggled, a very little, when Joshua, was not 
looking, directly at it. The statement, however, does 
not appear, so very incredible, when we reflect, that sea- 
faring men, are in the habit, of actually bringing the sun 
down, to the horizon, every day, at twelve, meridian. 
This, they effect, by means of a tool, made of brass, 
glass, and silver, called a sextant. 

The composition, of the sun has, long, been a matter 
of dispute. By close and accurate observation, with an 
excellent opera-glass, we have arrived, at the conclusion, 
that its entire surface, is covered with water, to a very 
great depth ; which water, (being composed, by a pro- 
cess, known, at present, only to the Creator of the Uni- 
verse, and, Mr. Paine, of Worcester, Massachusetts) 
generates carburetted hydrogen gas; which, being in- 
flamed, surrounds the entire body, with an ocean of fire; 
from which, we, and the other planets, receive our light 
and heat. The spots, upon its surface, are glimpses of 
water, obtained, through the fire; and, we call the 
attention, of our old friend, and former school-mate, 
Mr. Agassiz, to this fact ; as, by closely observing one 
of these spots, with a strong refracting telescope, he 



LECTURE ON ASTRONOMY. 33 

may discover a new species of fish, with littlo fishes 
inside of them. It is possible, that the sun, may bum 
out, after a while, which would leave this world, in a 
state of darkness, quite uncomfortable, to contemplate; 
but, even under these circumstances, it is pleasant, to 
reflect, that courting, and love-making, would, probably, 
increase, to an indefinite extent; and, that many per- 
sons, would make largo fortunes, by the sudden rise, in 
valuo of coal, wood, candles, and gas ; which would go, 
to illustrate the truth, of the old proverb, "It is an ill 
wind, that blows nobody any good." 

Upon the whole, the sun, is a glorious creation; 
pleasing, to gaze upon, (through smoked glass) ele- 
vating, to think upon, and, exceedingly comfortable, to 
every created being, on a cold day ; it is the largest, the 
brightest, and, may be considered, by far, the most mag- 
nificent, object, in the celestial sphere ; though, with all 
these attributes, it must be confessed, that it is, occa- 
sionally, entirely eclipsed, by the moon. 

The Earth. — The earth, or, as the Latins call it, Tellus, 
(from which originated, the expression, "do tell us") is 
the third planet, in the solar system ; and, the one, on 
which we subsist, with all our important joys, and sor- 
rows. The San Diego Herald, is published, weekly, on 
this planet, for five dollars, per annum, payable, inva- 
riably, in advance. As the earth is, by no means, the 
most important planet, in the system, there is no reason 
to suppose, that it is particularly distinguished, from the 
others, by being inhabited. It is reasonable, therefore, 
to conclude, that all the other planets of the system, are 
filled with living, moving, and sentient, beings; and, as 
some of them, are superior, to the earth, in size and 
position, it is not improbable, that their inhabitants, 
may be superior, to us, in physical, and mental, 
organization. 



34 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

But, if this were a demonstrable fact, instead of a 
mere hypothesis, it would be found, a very difficult 
matter, to persuade us, of its truth. To the inhabitants 
of Yenus, the earth appears, like a brilliant star ; very 
much, in fact, as Yenus appears to us ; and, reasoning 
from analogy, we are led to believe, that the election of 
Mr. Pierce, the European war, or, the split, in the great 
Democratic party, produced but very little excitement, 
among them. 

To the inhabitants of Jupiter, our important globe, 
appears like a star, of the fourth, or fifth, magnitude. 
We recollect, some years ago, gazing, with astonishment, 
upon the inhabitants of a drop of water ; developed, by 
the solar microscope ; and, secretly, wondering, whether 
they were, or not, reasonable beings ; with souls, to be 
saved. It is not, altogether, a pleasant reflection, that 
a highly scientific inhabitant of Jupiter, armed with a 
telescope of, (to us), inconceivable form, may be pur- 
suing a similar course of inquiry, and indulging, in 
similar speculations, regarding our earth, and its in- 
habitants. Gazing, with curious eye, his attention, is 
suddenly attracted, by the movements, of a grand cele- 
bration of Fourth of July, in New York j or, a mighty 
convention, in Baltimore. "God bless my soul!" he 
exclaims, "I declare they're alive, these little creatures! 
do see them wriggle!" To an inhabitant of the sun, 
however, he of Jupiter, is, probably, quite as insig- 
nificant ; and the Sun man, is, possibly, a mere atom, in 
the opinion of a dweller, in Sirius. A little reflection, 
on these subjects, leads to the opinion, that the death, 
of an individual man, on this earth, though, perhaps, 
as important an event, as can occur, to himself, is cal- 
culated, to cause no great convulsion of nature, or, dis- 
turb, particularly, the great aggregate of created 
beings. 



LECTURE ON ASTRONOMY. 35 

The earth, moves round the sun, from west to east, 
in a year; and, turns, on its axis, in a day; thus moving, 
at the rate, of sixty-eight thousand miles, an hour, in 
its orbit, and, rolling round, at the tolerably rapid rate, 
of one thousand and forty miles, per hour. As our 
readers, may have seen, that, when a man is galloping 
a horse, violently, over a smooth road, if the horse, 
from viciousness, or other cause, suddenly stops, the 
man, keeps on, at the same rate, over the animal's head, 
so, we, supposing the earth, suddenly, arrested, on its 
axis, men, women, children, horses, cattle, sheep, don- 
keys, editors, and members of Congress, with all our 
goods and chattels, would be thrown off, into the air, at 
a speed of one hundred and seventy-three miles, a 
minute; every mother's son of us, describing the arc of 
a parabola ; which is, probably, the only description, we 
should, ever, be able to give, of the affair. 

This catastrophe, to one sufficiently collected, to enjoy 
it, would, doubtless, be exceedingly amusing; but, as 
there would, probably, be no time for laughing, we pray, 
that it may not occur, until after our demise; when, 
should it take place, our monument, will, probably, ac- 
company the movement. It is a singular fact, that, if a 
man, travel round the earth, in an eastwardly direction, 
he will find, on returning, to the place of departure, he 
has gained one, whole, day; the reverse, of this propo- 
sition, being true, also, it follows, that the Yankees, who 
are constantly travelling, to the West, do not live as 
long, by a day or two, as they would, if they had staid, 
at home ; and, supposing each Yankee's time, to be 
worth one dollar and fifty cents, per day, it may easily 
be shown, that a considerable amount of money, is, 
annually, lost, by their roving dispositions. 



36 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



The Fat Actor and the Rustic. 

Cardinal Wolsey, was a man, 
"Of an unbounded stomach/' Shakspearc says; 
Meaning, (in metaphor) for ever puffing, 
To swell, beyond his size and span. 
But, had he seen a player, of our days, 
Enacting Falstaff, without stuffing, 
He would have owned, that, Wolsey's bulk, ideal, 
Equaled not that, within the bounds, 
This actor's belt surrounds; 
Which is, moreover, all alive, and real. 

This player, when the peace, enabled shoals, 

Of our odd fishes, 
To visit every clime, between the poles, 
Swam with the stream; a histrionic kraken; 

Although, his wishes, 
Must not, in this proceeding, be mistaken; 
For, he went out, professionally; bent 
To see, how money, might be made, not spent. 

In this most laudable employ, 
He found himself, at Lille, one afternoon 
And, that he might, the breeze, enjoy, 
And, catch a peep, at the ascending moon, 
Out of the town, he took a stroll ; 
Refreshing, in the fields, his soul, 
With sight of streams, and trees, and snowy fleeces, 
And thoughts, of crowded houses, and new pieces. 
When we are pleasantly employed, time flies. 
He counted up, his profits, in the skies, 
Until the moon, began to shine; 

On which, he gazed awhile; and, then, 
Pulled out his watch, and cried, "Past nine! 
.Why, zounds ! they shut the gates, at ten !" 



THE RIGHT OF ENGLAND TO TAX AMERICA. 8| 

Backward, he turned his itepe, instanter; 

Stumping along, with might and main; 
And, though 'tis plain, 
Ho couldn't gallop, trot, or canter, 
(Thoso who had seen him, would confess it) he, 
Marched, well, for one of such obesity., 
Eyeing his watch, and, now, his forehead mopping, 

He puffed, and blew, along the road; 
Afraid of melting, more afraid, of stopping; 
When, in his path, he met a clown, 
Eeturning from the town. 
" Tell me," he panted, in a thawing state, 
"Dost think, I can get in, friend, at the gate?" 

"Get in!" replied the hesitating loon, 
Measuring, with his eye, our bulky wight, 
u Why, yes, sir, I should tfimk, you might; 

A load of hay, went in, this afternoon." 



The Right of England to Tax America. 

But, Mr. Speaker, the noble lord, says, "we have a 
right, to tax America." Oh inestimable right! Oh 
wonderful, transcendent, right! the assertion of which, 
has cost this country, thirteen provinces, six islands, one 
hundred thousand lives, and, seventy millions of money. 
Oh invaluable right! for the sake of which, we have 
sacrificed our rank, among nations, our importance, 
abroad, and our happiness, at home ! Oh right ! more 
dear to us, than our existence ; which has, already, cost 
us so much; and, which seems likely, to cost us, our all. 
Infatuated man! miserable and undone country! not to 
know, that the claim of right, without the power of en- 

23 



60 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

forcing it, is nugatory and idle. We have a right, to 
tax America; the noble lord tells us; therefore, we 
ought to tax America. This is the profound logic, which 
comprises the whole chain of his reasoning. 

Not inferior to this, was the wisdom of him, who re- 
solved to shear the wolf. What, shear a wolf! Have 
you considered the resistance, the difficulty, the danger, 
of the attempt? No, says the madman, I have con- 
sidered nothing, but the right. Man, has a right of 
dominion, over the beasts of the forest ; and, therefore, 
I will shear the wolf. How wonderful, that a nation, 
could be thus deluded. But, the noble lord, deals in 
cheats, and delusions. They are the daily traffic, of his 
invention; and, he will continue, to play off his cheats, 
on this house, so long, as he thinks them necessary, to 
his purpose; and, so long, as he has money enough, at 
command, to bribe gentlemen, to pretend, that they be- 
lieve him. But, a black and bitter day of reckoning, 
will surely come; and, whenever that day comes, I 
trust, I shall be able, by a parliamentary impeachment, 
to bring, upon the heads of the authors of our calamities, 
the punishment they deserve. 



South Carolina and Massachusetts. 

The eulogium, pronounced, on the character of the 
state of South Carolina, by the honorable gentleman, 
for her revolutionary, and other, merits, meets my 
hearty concurrence. I shall not acknowledge, that the 
honorable member, goes before me, in regard for what- 
ever, of distinguished talent, or distinguished character, 
South Carolina, has produced. I claim part of the 
honor; I partake, in the pride, of her great names. I 



SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS. 39 

claim them, for countrymen; one, and all. The Lau- 
renses, the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumpters, the 
Marions, Americans, all; whoso fame, is no more to be 
hemmed in, by state lines, than their talents, and patriot- 
ism, were capable of being circumscribed, within the 
same narrow limits. 

In their day and generation, they served and hon- 
ored the country, and, the whole country; and, their 
renown, is of the treasures, of the whole country. Him, 
whose honored name, the gentleman, nimself, bears; 
does he suppose me, less capable, of gratitude, for 
his patriotism, or sympathy, for his sufferings, than 
if his eyes, had first opened, upon the light, in Massa- 
chusetts, instead of South Carolina ? Sir, does he sup- 
pose it, in his power, to exhibit a Carolina name, so 
bright, as to produce envy, in my bosom ? No sir, in- 
creased gratification and delight, rather. Sir, I thank 
God, that, if I am gifted with little, of the spirit, which 
is said to be able, to raise mortals, to the skies, I have 
yet, none, as I trust, of that other spirit, which would 
drag angels, down. 

"When I shall be found, sir, in my place here, in the 
Senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because 
it happened to spring up, beyond the little limits, of my 
own state, or neighborhood, when I refuse, for any such 
cause, or for any cause, the homage, due to American 
talent, to elevated patriotism, to sincere devotion to 
liberty, and the country, or, if I see an uncommon en- 
dowment of heaven, if I see extraordinary capacity and 
virtue, in any son of the South, and, if moved, by local 
prejudice, or gangrened, by state jealousy, I get up, here, 
to detract the tithe of a hair, from his just character, 
and just fame, may my tongue, cleave, to the roof of 
my mouth. 

Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium, upon 



40 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Massachusetts; she needs none. There she is; behold 
her, and, judge for yourselves. There is her history; 
the world, knows it, by heart. The past, at least, is 
secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, 
and Bunker Hill ; and, there they will remain, forever. 

And, sir, where American liberty, raised its first 
voice, and, where its youth was nurtured, and sustained, 
there it still lives, in the strength of its manhood ; and, 
full of its original spirit. If discord, and disunion, shall 
wound it, if party strife, and blind ambition, shall hawk 
at, and tear it, if folly, and madness, if uneasiness, under 
salutary and necessary restraint, shall succeed, to sepa- 
rate it, from that Union, by which, alone, its existence 
is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the side of that 
cradle, in which, its infancy, was rocked ; it will stretch 
forth its arm, with whatever of vigor, it may still 
retain, over the friends, who gather round it; and, it 
will fall, at last, if fall it must, amid the proudest monu- 
ments of its own glory, and, on the very spot, of its 



The Alarmed Skipper. 

Many a long, long, year, ago, 

Nantucket skippers, had a plan, 
Of finding out, though "lying low," 

How near New York, their schooners ran. 

They greased the lead, before it fell, 

And, then, by sounding, through the night, 

Knowing the soil, that stuck, so well, 

They always guessed their reckoning, right. 

A skipper gray, whose eyes, were dim, 
Could tell, by tasting, just the spot; 



TITE ALARMED SKIPPER. 41 

And so, below, he'd "dowse the glim/' 
After, of course, his " something hot." 

Snug, in his berth, at eight o'clock, 
This ancient skipper, might be found; 

No matter, how his craft, would rock, 
He slept; for, skippers' naps, are sound ! 

The watch, on deck, would, now and then, 
Eun down, and wake him, with the lead; 

He'd up, and taste; and, tell the men, 
How many miles, they went ahead. 

One night, 'twas Jotham Marden's, watch, 

A curious wag, the pedler's son ; 
And, so he mused, (the wanton wretch) 

" To-night, I'll have a grain of fun. 

" We're all, a set of stupid fools, 

To think the skipper, knows, by tasting, 

What ground he's on. Nantucket schools, 
Don't teach such stuff, with all their basting." 

And so, he took the well greased lead, 

And, rubbed it, o'er a box of earth, 
That stood on deck ; (a parsnip bed) 

And, then, he sought the skipper's berth. 

" Where are we now, sir ? Please to taste." 
The skipper, yawned, put out his tongue, 

Then, oped his eyes, in wondrous haste; 
And, then, upon the floor, he sprung. 

The skipper, stormed, and tore his hair ; 

Thrust on his boots, and roared, to Marden, 
"Nantucket's sunk ! and, here, we are, 

Eight over, old Dame Hackett's garden !" 

23* 



42 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



George III. and the Apple-Dumplings. 

Once, in the chase, this monarchy drooping, 
From his high consequence, and wisdom, stooping, 

Entered, through curiosity, a cot, 

Where an old crone, was hanging on the pot. 
The wrinkled, blear-eyed, good, old granny, 
In this same cot, illumed, by many a cranny, 

Had apple-dumplings, ready for the pot ; 
In tempting row, the naked dumplings lay ; 
When, lo ! the monarch, in his usual way, 

Like lightning, asked, "What's here? what's here? 
what? what? what? what?" 
Then, taking up a dumpling, in his hand, 
His eyes, with admiration, did expand; 

And oft, did majesty, the dumpling grapple; 
"'Tis monstrous, monstrous, monstrous, hard," he cried; 
" What makes the thing, so hard ?" The dame, replied, 

Low courtesying, " Please your majesty, the apple." 
"Very astonishing, indeed! strange thing!" 
Turning the dumpling round, rejoined the king; 
" 'Tis most extraordinary, now, all this is ; 
It beats the conjurer's capers, all to pieces; 
Strange, I should, never, of a dumpling, dream. 
But, Goody, tell me, where, where, where' s the seam ?" 
" Sire, there's no seam;" quoth she. " I never knew, 
That folks, did apple dumplings, sew !" 
" No ?" cried the staring monarch, with a grin, 
" Then, where, where, where, pray, got the apple in ?" 



SAINT PAUL'S DEFENCE. 43 



Saint Paul's Defence. 

Then, Agrippa, said unto Paul, " Thou art permitted 
to speak for thyself." Then, Paul, stretched forth, the 
hand, and, answered, for himself; 

" I think myself, happy, king Agrippa, because I shall 
answer, for myself, this day, before thee, touching all 
the things, whereof, I am accused of the Jews. Espe- 
cially, because I know thee, to be expert, in all customs 
and questions, which are among the Jews ; wherefore, I 
beseech thee, to hear me, patiently. My manner of life, 
from my youth, which was, at the first, among mine own 
nation, at Jerusalem, know all the Jews; which knew 
me, from the beginning, if they would testify, that, after 
the most straitest sect, of our religion, I lived, a Phari- 
see. And now, I stand, and am judged, for the hope of 
tho promise, made, of God, unto our fathers ; unto which 
promise, our twelve tribes, instantly serving God, day 
and night, hope to come. For which hope's sake, king 
Agrippa, I am accused, of the Jews. 

"Why should it be thought, a thing incredible, with 
you, that God should raise the dead ? I verily thought, 
with myself, that I ought to do many things, contrary 
to the name, of Jesus of Nazareth. Which thing I also 
did, in Jerusalem ; and, many of the saints, did I shut 
up, in prison ; having received authority, of the chief 
Priests ; and, when they were put to death, I gave my 
voice, against them. And, I punished them, oft, in every 
synagogue; and compelled them, to blaspheme; and, 
being exceedingly mad, against them, I persecuted them, 
even unto strange cities. Whereupon, as I went to Da- 
mascus, with authority and commission, from the chief 
Priests, at mid-day, O king, I saw, in the way, a light from 
heaven, above the brightness of the sun, shining round 



44 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

about me, and them, which journeyed with me. And, 
when we were all fallen, to the earth, I heard a voice, 
speaking to me, and saying, in the Hebrew tongue, 'Saul, 
Saul, why persecutest thou, me ? it is hard for thee, to 
kick, against the pricks'. And I said, l Who art thou, 
Lord?' And he said, 'I am Jesus, whom thou perse- 
cutest. But, rise, and stand upon thy feet ; for, I have 
appeared unto thee, for this purpose, to make thee, a 
minister, and a witness, both of these things, which 
thou hast seen, and, of those things, in the which, I will 
appear unto thee ; delivering thee, from the people, and, 
from the Gentiles, unto whom, now I send thee ; to open 
their eyes, and, to turn them, from darkness, to light, 
and, from the power of Satan, unto God ; that they may 
receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance, among them 
which are sanctified, by faith, that is in me'. 

" Whereupon, O king Agrippa, I was not disobedient, 
unto the heavenly vision ; but, showed, first, unto them 
of Damascus, and, at Jerusalem, and, throughout all the 
coasts of Judea, and, then, to the Gentiles, that they 
should repent, and, turn to God; and, do works, meet 
for repentance. For these causes, the Jews, caught me, 
iu the temple, and went about, to kill me. Having, 
therefore, obtained help of God, I continue, unto this day, 
witnessing, both to small and great; saving none other 
things, than those, which the prophets, and Moses, did 
say, should come. That Christ, should suffer; and, that he 
should be, the first, that should rise, from the dead; and, 
should show light, unto the people, and to the Gentiles". 

And, as he thus spake, for himself, Festus, said, with 
a loud voice, "Paul, thou art beside thyself; much learn- 
ing, doth make thee mad". But, he said, "I am not 
mad, most noble Festus, but, speak forth, the words of 
truth and soberness. For the king, knoweth of these 
things; before whom, also, I speak freely; for, I am per- 



ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN. 45 

suaded, none of theso things, aro hidden from him ; for, 
this thing, was not done, in a corner. King Agrippa, 
believest thou the prophets ? I know, that thou be- 
lievest". Then, Agrippa, said, unto Paul, "Almost, thou 
persuadest me, to be a Christian". And, Paul said, " I 
would to God, that, not only thou, but, also all, that hear 
me, this day, were both, almost, and altogether, such as 
1 am j except theso bonds". 



Addkess to the Ocean. 

There is a pleasure, in the pathless woods; 
There is a rapture, on the lonely shore; 
There is society, where none intrudes, 
By the deep Sea, and, music, in its roar. 
I love not Man, the less, but, Nature, more, 
From these, our interviews, in which, I steal 
From all I may be, or have been, before, 
To mingle, with the tlniverse, and, feel 
What I can ne'er express, yet, cannot, all, conceal. 

Roll on, thou deep, and dark, blue, ocean, roll ! 
Ten thousand fleets, sweep over thee, in vain ; 
Man, marks the earth, with ruin ; his control, 
Stops, with the shore ; upon the watery plain, 
The wrecks, are all thy deed ; nor, doth remain, 
A shadow, of man's ravage, save his own, 
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, 
He sinks, into thy depths, with bubbling groan, 
Without a grave ; unknelled, uncoffmed, and, unknown. 

His steps, are not, upon thy paths ; thy fields, 
Are not a spoil, for him; thou dost arise, 
And shake him from thee; the vile strength, he wields, 
For earth's destruction, thou, dost all despise ; 



46 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Spurning him, from thy bosom, to the skies ; 
And, send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, 
And, howling to his gods, where, haply, lies 
His petty hope, in some near port, or bay ; 
Then, dashest him, again to earth ; there, let him lay. 

The armaments, which thunderstrike the walls, 
Of rock -built cities, bidding nations quake, 
And monarch s, tremble in their capitals, 
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs, make 
Their clay creator, the vain title, take, 
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war, 
These, are thy toys ; and, as the snowy flake, 
They melt, into thy yeast of waves, which mar, **- 
Alike, the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. 

Thy shores, are empires, changed in all, save thee; 
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they ? 
Thy waters, wasted them, while they were free, 
And, many a tyrant, since ; their shores, obey 
The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay, 
Has dried up realms, to deserts ; not so, thou, 
Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play ; 
Time, writes no wrinkle, on thine azure brow ; 
Such, as creation's dawn beheld, thou, rollest, now. 

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form, 
Glasses itself, in tempests, in all time, 
(Calm, or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm, 
Icing the pole, or, in the torrid clime, 
Dark-heaving) boundless, endless, and sublime ; 
The image, of Eternity ; the throne, 
Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime, 
The monsters of the deep, are made; each zone, 
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 



THE SONG OF MO£ 17 

And, I have loved thee, Ocean, and my joy, 
Of youthful sports, was, on thy breast, to be 
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward ; from a boy, 
I wantoned, with thy breakers; they, to me, 
Were a delight; and, if the freshening sea, 
Made them, a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear 
For, I was, as it were, a child of thee, 
And trusted, to thy billows, far, and near; 
And, laid my hand, upon thy mane; as I do, here. 



The Song of Moses. 

Then, sang Moses, and the children of Israel, this 
song, unto the Lord, and, spake, saying, I will sing, unto 
the Lord, for, he hath triumphed, gloriously; the horse, 
and his rider, hath he thrown, into the sea. The Lord, 
is my strength, and song ; and, he is become, my salva- 
tion ; he is my God, and, I will prepare him, an habita- 
tion ; my father's God, and, I will exalt him. The Lord, 
is a man of war ; Jehovah, is his name. Pharaoh's cha- 
riots, and his host, hath he cast, into the sea ; his chosen 
captains, also, are drowned, in the Eed Sea. The depths, 
covered them; they sank, into the bottom, as a stone. 
Thy, right, hand, O Lord, is become glorious, in power ; 
thy, right, hand, O Lord, hath dashed, in pieces, the 
enemy. And, in the greatness, of thy excellency, thou 
hast overthrown them, that rose, up, against thee ; thou 
sentest forth, thy wrath, which consumed them, as 
stubble. And, with the blast, of thy nostrils, the 
waters, were gathered, together; the floods, stood, 
upright, as a heap; and, the depths, were congealed, in 
the heart of the sea. The enemy said, I will pursue ; I 
will overtake; I will divide the spoil; my lust, shall 



48 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

be satisfied, upon them. Thou didst blow, with thy 
wind, the sea, covered them ; they sank, as lead, in the 
mighty waters. Who is like, unto thee, O Lord, among 
the Gods ? who is like, thee, glorious, in holiness, fear- 
ful, in praises, doing wonders ? Thou, stretchedst out, 
thy hand, the earth, swallowed them. Thou, in thy 
mercy, hast led forth, the people, which thou hast re- 
deemed; thou hast guided them, in thy strength, unto 
thy holy habitation. The people, shall hear, and be 
afraid; sorrow, shall take hold, on the inhabitants, of 
Palestina. Then the dukes of Edom, shall be amazed ; 
the mighty men of Moab, trembling, shall take hold, 
upon them; all the inhabitants, of Canaan, shall melt 
away. Fear, and dread, shall fall upon them ; by the 
greatness of thine arm, they shall be, as still, as a stone, 
till thy people, pass over, O Lord, till the people, pass 
over, which thou, hast purchased. Thou shalt bring 
them, in, and plant them, in the mountain, of thine in- 
heritance, in the place, O Lord, which thou, hast made, 
for them, to dwell in ; in the sanctuary, O Lord, which 
thy hands, have established. Jehovah, shall reign, for 
ever and ever. 



Satan's Soliloquy. 

This extract, from Milton, requires great care, in the reading, in 
order to convey the sense clearly, and to display the various emotions 
of Satan. It will not, therefore, be amiss to preface it, with some 
general directions, for the management of the voice. 

The pitch of the voice, throughout, should be upon the lowest key, 
the student can use, with fulness of sound upon the successive syl- 
lables. The time should, generally, be slow, and the quantity, be 
long upon all the syllables, that will bear extension. 

The emotion, depicted, in the first four lines, is that of high admira- 
tion. To express this the median stress is required. But, when we 



SATAN'S SOLILOQUY. 49 

come to the words, "to thee I call," admiration, begins to give way 
to hatred, and the thorough stress, must take the place of the median ; 
and, upon the word, hate, the guttural vibration, should be used. 

At the commencement of the eleventh line, the emotion changes 
from that of hatred, to contrition, or remorse ; the median stress, 
should then be adopted again, with an occasional use of the wave of 
the semitone upon some of the long syllables. This intonation should 
be continued, until you come to the end of the sentence, "no unbounded 
hope, had raised ambition." Then come several lines of simple rea- 
soning, without any special emotion, in which the radical stress with 
much shorter quantity is required. Then we have two lines, begin- 
ning with, "be then his love," in which the emotion of hatred returns 
with great force, and corresponding intonation must be adopted upon 
them. 

Next, we have a return of contrition, for twenty-two lines, in which 
the same intonation, adopted in the eleventh and subsequent lines, 
with still more of the wave of the semitone upon some of the 
latter lines. 

Then we have ten lines of unimpassioned reasoning again, and the 
corresponding intonation must be used. 

From this to the end, the evil passions prevail to a greatly increased 
extent, and the thorough stress must again be adopted, and used with 
augmented force, to the end. The last line, especially, should be read 
with great force, upon the thorough stress, and very monotonously. 

O Thou, that, with surpassing glory, crowned, 
Lookest, from thy sole dominion, like the God, 
Of this new world, at whose sight, all the stars, 
Hide their diminished heads, to thee, I call, 
But, with no friendly voice, and, add thy name, 

Sun, to tell thee, how I hate thy beams ; 

That bring, to my remembrance, from what state, 

1 fell ; how glorious, once, above thy sphere, 
Till, pride, and, worse, ambition, threw me, down, 
Warring, in Heaven, -against Heaven's matchless King. 
Ah, wherefore ? he deserved no such return, 

From me, whom he created, what I was, 
In that bright eminence, and, with his good, 
Upbraided none; nor, was his service, hard. 

24 



50 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

"What, could be less, than, to afford him praise ? 

The easiest recompense ; and, pay him thanks ? 

How due ! Yet, all his good, proved ill, in me, 

And, wrought but malice ; lifted up, so high, 

I disdained subjection; and thought, one step, higher, 

"Would set me, highest ; and, in a moment, quit 

The debt, immense, of endless gratitude, 

So burdensome ; still, paying, still, to owe ; 

Forgetful, what, from him, I still received, 

And, understood not, that, a grateful mind, 

By owing, owes not ; but, still pays ; at once 

Indebted, and, discharged. "What burden, then ? 

O, had his powerful destiny, ordained 

Me, some inferior angel, I had stood, 

Then, happy ; no, unbounded, hope, had raised 

Ambition. Yet, why not ? some other power, 

As great, might have aspired, and me, though mean, 

Drawn to his part ; but, other powers, as great, 

Fell not, but stand, unshaken, from within, 

Or, from without ; to all temptations, armed. 

Hadst thou, the same free will, and power to stand ? 

Thou hadst; whom, hast thou, then, or what, to accuse? 

But Heaven's free love; dealt, equally, to all. 

Be, then, his love, accursed ; since, love, or hate, 

To me, alike, it deals eternal woe. 

Nay, cursed, be thou ; since, against his, thy will, 

Chose freely, what, it now, so justly, rues. 

Me, miserable ! which way, shall I fly, 

Infinite wrath, and, infinite despair ? 

Which way, I fly, is hell ; myself, am hell ; 

And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep, 

Still threatening, to devour me, opens, wide, 

To which, the hell, I suffer, seems, a heaven. 

O, then, at last, relent; is there no place, 

Left, for repentance ? none, for pardon, left ? 






SATAN'S SOLILOQUY. 51 

None, left, but, by submission ; and, that word, 

Disdain, forbids me ; and, my dread of shame, 

Among the spirits beneath ; whom, I seduced, 

With other promises, and, other vaunts, 

Than to submit ; boasting, I could subdue 

The Omnipotent. Ah me ! they little know, 

How dearly, I abide that boast, so vain; 

Under what torments, inwardly, I groan, 

While they adore me, on the throne of Hell. 

With diadem, and sceptre, high, advanced, 

The lower, still, I fall ; only supreme, 

In miser^; such joy, ambition, finds. 

But, say, I could repent; and, could obtain, 

By act of grace, my former state; how soon, 

Would height, recall high thoughts ? how soon, unsay 

What, feigned submission swore ? ease, would recant 

Vows, made, in pain, as violent, and void ; 

(For never, can true reconcilement, grow, 

Where wounds, of deadly hate, have pierced, so deep,) 

Which would but lead me, to a worse relapse, 

And heavier fall ; so, should I purchase, dear, 

Short intermission, bought, with double smart. 

This, knows, my Punisher ; therefore, as far, 

From granting, he, as I, from begging, peace. 

All hope, excluded, thus, behold, in stead 

Of us, outcast, exiled, his new delight, 

Mankind, created; and, for him, this world. 

So, farewell, hope ; and, with hope, farewell, fear ; 

Farewell, remorse ; all good, to me, is lost. 

Evil, be thou, my good ; by thee, at least 

Divided empire, with Heaven's King, I hold ; 

By thee, and more, than half, perhaps, will reign ; 

As man, ere long, and this new world, shall know. 



52 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



Adam and Eve's Morning Hymn. 

These, are thy glorious, works, Parent of good, 

Almighty; thine, this universal frame, 

Thus wondrous fair. Thyself, how wondrous, then ! 

Unspeakable ! who sitt'st, above these heavens, 

To us, invisible, or, dimly seen, 

In these, thy lowest works ; yet, these, declare 

Thy goodness, beyond thought, and power, divine. 

Speak, ye, who best can tell, ye sons of light, 

Angels, for, ye behold him, and, with songs, 

And (ihoral symphonies, day without night, 

Circle his throne, rejoicing. Ye, in heaven; 

On earth, join, all ye creatures, to extol 

Him, first, him, last, him, midst, and, without end. 

Fairest of stars, last, in the train of night, 

If, better, thou belong not, to the dawn, 

Sure pledge of day, that crownest the smiling morn, 

With thy bright circlet, praise him, in thy sphere, 

While day, arises, that, sweet, hour of prime. 

Thou Sun, of this great world, both eye, and soul, 

Acknowledge him, thy greater ; sound his praise, 

In thy eternal course, both, when thou climbest, 

And, when high noon, hast gained, and, when thou fall- 

est. 
Moon, that now meetest the orient sun, now flyest, 
With the fixed stars, fixed, in their orb, that flies, 
And ye, five other wandering fires, that move, 
In mystic dance, not without song, resound 
His praise, who, out of darkness, called up light. 
Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth, 
Of nature's womb, that, in quaternion, run, 
Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix, 
And nourish, all things, let your ceaseless change, 



BERTRAND BARERE. i 

Vary, to our groat Maker, still new praise. 

Ye mists, and exhalations, that, now, rise, 

From hill, or steaming lake, dusky or gray, 

Till the sun, paint your fleecy skirts, with gold, 

In honor, to the world's great Author, rise ; 

Whether, to deck, with clouds, the uncolored sky, 

Or, wet the thirsty earth, with falling showers, 

Eising, or falling, still, advance his praise. 

His praise, ye winds, that, from four quarters, blow, 

Breathe, soft, or loud ; and, wave your tops, ye pines, 

With every plant, in sign of worship, wave. 

Fountains, and ye, that warble, as ye flow, 

Melodious murmurs, warbling, tune his praise. 

Join voices, all ye living souls. Ye birds, 

That, singing, up to heaven's gate, ascend, 

Bear, on your wings, and, in your notes, his praise. 

Ye, that, in waters, glide, and, ye, that walk 

The earth, and, stately tread, or lowly creep, 

Witness, if I be silent, morn, or even, 

To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh shade, 

Made vocal, by my song, and, taught his praise. 

Hail, universal Lord ) be bounteous, still, 

To give us, only good ; and, if the night, 

Have gathered aught, of evil, or concealed, 

Disperse it ; as now, light, dispels the dark. 



Extract from a Review of the Memoirs of 
Bertrand Barere. 

This book, has more than one title, to our serious 
attention. It is an appeal, solemnly made, to pos- 
terity, by a man, who played a conspicuous part, in 
great events; and, who represents himself, as deeply 

24* 



54 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

aggrieved, by the rash, and malevolent, censure of his 
contemporaries. To such an appeal, we shall, always, 
give ready audience. We can perform no duty, more 
useful to society, or, more agreeable, to our own feelings, 
than that of making, as far as our power extends, re- 
paration to the slandered, and persecuted, benefactors 
to mankind. We, therefore, promptly, took, into our 
consideration, this copious apology, for the life of Ber- 
trand Barere. We have made up our minds ; and, we 
now propose, to do him, by the blessing of God, full 
and signal justice. 

It is to be observed, that the appellant, in this case, 
does not come into court, alone. He is attended, to the 
bar of public oj)inion, by two compurgators, who occupy 
highly honorable stations. One of these, is M. David, 
of An^gers; member of the Institute, an eminent 
sculptor; and, if we have been rightly informed, a 
favorite pupil, though not kinsman, of the painter, who 
bore the same name. The other, to whom we owe the 
biographical preface, is M. Hippolyte Carnot; member 
of the Chamber of Deputies, and, son, of the -celebrated 
Director. In the judgment of M. David, and of M. 
Hippolyte Carnot, Barere was a deserving, and an ill- 
used man ; a man, who, though by no means faultless, 
must, yet, when due allowance, is made, for the force of 
circumstances, and the infirmity of human nature, be 
considered, as, on the whole, entitled to our esteem. It 
will be for the public, to determine, after a full hearing, 
whether the editors, have, by thus connecting their 
names, with that of Barere, raised his character, or, 
lowered their own. 

We are not conscious, that, when we opened this 
book, we were under the influence, of any feeling, likely 
to pervert our judgment. Undoubtedly, we had long 
entertained a most unfavorable opinion, of Barere; but, 






BERTRAND BARERE. 55 

to this opinion, we were not tied, by any passion, or, 
by any interest. Our dislike, was a reasonable dislike ; 
and, might have been removed, by reason. Indeed, our 
expectation was, that these Memoirs, would, in some 
measure, clear Barere's fame. That he could vindicate 
himself, from all the charges, which had been brought, 
against him, we knew to be impossible; and, his 
editors, admit, that he has not done so. But, we 
thought it highly probable, that some, grave, accusa- 
tions, would be refuted; and, that many offences, to 
which, he would have been forced, to plead guilty, 
would be greatly extenuated. We were not disposed, 
to be severe. We were fully aware, that temptations, 
such as those, to which the members of the Convention, 
and of the committee of public safety, were exposed, 
must try, severely, the strength of the firmest virtue. 
Indeed, our inclination, has always been, to regard, 
with an indulgence, which, to some rigid moralists, 
appears excessive, those faults, into which, gentle and 
noble spirits, are sometimes hurried, by the excitement 
of conflict, by the maddening influence, of sympathy, 
and, by ill-regulated zeal, for a public cause. 

With such feelings, we read this book, and compared 
it with other accounts, of the events, in which, Barere 
bore a part. It is now our duty, to express the opinion, 
to which, this investigation, has led us. 

Our opinion, then, is this; that Barere, approached 
nearer, than any person, mentioned, in history, or 
fiction, whether man, or devil, to the idea, of consum- 
mate, and universal, depravity. In him, the qualities, 
which are the proper objects, of hatred, and, the qualities, 
which are the proper objects, of contempt, preserve an 
exquisite, and absolute, harmony. In almost every, 
particular, sort, of wickedness, he has had rivals. His 
sensuality, is immoderate; but, this, was a foiling, com- 



56 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

mon to him, with many great, and amiable, men. There 
have been, many men, as cowardly, as he; some, as 
cruel; a few, as mean; a few, as impudent. There 
may, also, have been as great liars; though, we never 
met, with them, or read, of them. But, when we put 
every thing, together, sensuality, poltroonery, baseness, 
effrontery, mendacity, barbarity, the result, is some- 
thing, which, in a novel, we should condemn, as carica- 
ture ; and, to which, we venture to say, no parallel, can 
be found, in history. 

It would be grossly unjust, we acknowledge, to tiy 
a man, situated, as Barere was, by a severe standard. 
Nor, have we done so. We have formed our opinion, 
of him, by comparing him, not with politicians, of 
stainless character, not with Chancellor D'Aguesseau, 
or General "Washington, or Mr. Wilberforce, or Earl 
Gray, but, with his own colleagues, of the Mountain. 
That party, included a considerable number, of the 
worst men, that ever lived; but, we see, in it, nothing 
like Barere. Compared with him, Fouche, seems 
honest; Billaud, seems humane; Hebert, seems to rise, 
into dignity. Every other chief, of a party, says M. 
Hippolyte Carnot, has found apologists ; one set of men, 
exalts the Girondists ; another set, justifies Danton ; a 
third, deifies Bobespierre; but, Barere, remains, with- 
out a defender. We venture to suggest a very simple 
solution, of this phenomenon. All the other chiefs, of 
parties, had some good qualities; but, Barere, had none. 
The genuine courage, patriotism, and humanity, of the 
Girondist statesmen, more than atoned, for what was 
culpable, in their conduct; and, should have protected 
them, from the insult, of being compared, with such a 
thing, as Barere. Danton and Bobespierre, were, in- 
deed, bad men ; but, in both of them, some important 
parts of the mind, remained sound. Danton, was 



MARCO BOZZARIS. 57 

brave, and resoluto ; fond of pleasure, of power, and of 
distinction; with vehement passions, with lax principles; 
but, with some, kind, and manly, feelings; capable of 
great crimes, but, capable, also, of friendship, and of 
compassion. He, therefore, naturally, finds admirers, 
among persons of bold, and sanguine, dispositions. 
Eobespierre, was a vain, envious, and suspicious, man; 
with a hard heart, weak nerves, and a gloomy temper. 
But, we cannot, with truth, deny, that he was, in the 
vulgar sense of the word, disinterested ; that his pri- 
vate life, was correct ; or, that he was sincerely zealous, 
for his own system, of politics, and morals. He, there- 
fore, naturally, finds admirers, among honest, but moody, 
and bitter, democrats. If no class, has taken the repu- 
tation of Barere, under its patronage, the reason is 
plain: Barere, had not a single virtue; nor, even the 
semblance of one. 



Marco Bozzaris. 



At midnight, 'neath the forest shades, 

Bozzaris, ranged his Suliote band; 
True, as the steel of their tried blades; 

Heroes, in heart, and hand. 
There, had the Persian thousands, stood, 
There, had the glad earth, drunk their blood, 

On old Platea's day. 
And, now, there breathed that haunted air, 
The sons, of sires, who conquered there, 
With arm to strike, and, soul to dare, 

As quick, as far, as they. 



58 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk, was dreaming of the hour, 
"When Greece, her knee, in suppliance, bent, 

Should tremble, at his power. 
In dreams, through camp, and court, he bore 
The trophies, of a conqueror ; 

In dreams, his song, of triumph heard; 
Then, wore his monarch's signet ring, 
Then, pressed that monarch's throne; a king. 
As wild, his thoughts, and, gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden bird. 



An hour, passed on, the Turk, awoke; 

That bright dream, was his last; 
He woke, to hear his sentry's, shriek, 
" To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek !" 
He woke, to die, midst flame, and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, 

And death-shots, falling thick, and fast, 
As lightnings, from the mountain cloud; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris, cheer his band ; 
" Strike, till the last armed foe, expires; 
Strike, for your altars, and your fires, 
Strike, for the green graves, of your sires, 

God, and your native land." 

They fought, like brave men, long, and well ; 

They piled that ground, with Moslem slain ; 
They conquered; but, Bozzaris, fell; 

Bleeding, at every vein. 
His few, surviving, comrades, saw 
His smile, when rang, their proud hurrah, 






MARCO BOZZARIS. 59 



And, the red field, was won ; 
Then, saw, in death, his eyelids, close 
Calmly, as to a night's repose ; 

Like flowers, at set of sun. 



Come, to the bridal chamber, Death, 

Come, to the mother's, when she feels, 
For the first time, her first-born's breath, 

Come, when the blessed seals, 
Which close the pestilence, are broke, 
And, crowded cities, wail its stroke, 
Come, in consumption's ghastly form, 
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm, 
Come, when the heart, beats high, and warm, 

With banquet-song, and dance, and wine, 
And thou art terrible ; the tear, 
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
And, all, we know, or dream, or fear, 

Of agony, are thine. 

But, to the hero, when his sword, 

Has won the battle, for the free, 
Thy voice, sounds, like a prophet's word ; 
And, in its hollow tones, are heard, 

The thanks of millions, yet to be. 
Bozzaris, with the storied brave, 

Greece nurtured, in her glory's time, 
Eest thee; there is no prouder grave, 

Even in her own, proud, clime. 

We tell thy doom, without a sigh; 
For, thou art freedom's, now, and fame's ; 
One of the few, the immortal, names, 

That were not born, to die. 



60 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



The Frost. 



The Frost, looked forth, one still, clear, night, 
And whispered " Now, I shall be, out of sight ; 
So, through the valley, and over the height, 

In silence, I'll take my way. 
I will not go on, like that blustering train, 
The wind, and the snow, the hail, and the rain, 
Who make so much bustle, and noise, in vain; 

But, I'll be as busy, as they." 

Then, he flew to the mountain, and, powdered its crest; 
He lit, on the trees, and, their boughs, he drest, 
In diamond beads; and, over the breast, 

Of the quivering lake, he spread 
A coat of mail, that need not fear 
The downward point, of many a spear, 
That he hung, on its margin, far and near, 

Where a rock, could rear its head. 

He went, to the windows, of those, who slept, 
And, over each pane, like a fairy, crept ; 
Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped, 

By the light of the moon, were seen, 
Most beautiful things ; there were flowers, and trees ; 
There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees ; 
There were cities, with temples, and towers ; and these, 

All pictured, in silver sheen ! 

But, he did one thing, that was hardly fair ; 
He peeped, in the cupboard ; and, finding there, 
That all, had forgotten, for him, to prepare, 

"Now, just to set them, a-thinking, 
Til bite this basket of fruit," said he ; 
"This costly pitcher, I'll burst, in three; 
And, the glass of water, they have left, for me, 

Shall 'tchick/ to tell them, I'm drinking!" 



APOSTROPHE TO LIGHT. 61 



Apostrophe to Light. 



Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven, first-born; 
Or, of the Eternal, coeternal beam, 
May I express thee, unblamed. Since, God is light, 
And, never, but in un approached light, 
Dwelt, from eternity, dwelt then, in thee ; 
Bright effluence, of bright essence, increate. 
Or, nearest thou, rather, pure ethereal stream ; 
Whose fountain, who can tell ? before the sun, 
Before the heavens, thou wert, and, at the voice 
Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest 
The rising world, of waters, dark, and deep, 
Won, from the void, and formless, infinite. 
Thee, I revisit, now, with bolder wing, 
Escaped the Stygian pool, though, long detained, 
In that obscure sojourn, while, in my flight, 
Through utter, and, through middle darkness, borne, 
With other notes, than to the Orphean lyre, 
I sung, of Chaos, and eternal Night ; 
Taught, by the Heavenly Muse, to venture down 
The dark descent, and, up, to reascend, 
Though hard, and rare, thee, I revisit, safe; 
And, feel thy sovereign, vital, lamp ; but, thou, 
Eevisitest not these eyes, that roll, in vain, 
To find thy piercing ray, and, find no dawn ; 
So thick a drop, serene, hath quenched their orbs, 
Or, dim suffusion, veiled. Yet, not the more, 
Cease I, to wander, where the Muses, haunt 
Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, 
Smit, with the love, of sacred song ; but, chief, 
Thee, Sion, and, the flowery brooks, beneath, 
That wash thy hallowed feet, and, warbling, flow, 
Nightly, I visit; nor, sometimes, forget 
25 



62 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Those other two, equalled, with me, in fate, 

So were I equalled, with them, in renown, 

Blind Thamyris, and, blind Maeonides ; 

And Tyresias, and Phineas; prophets old; 

Then, feed, on thoughts, that, voluntary, move 

Harmonious numbers ; as the wakeful bird, 

Sings, darkling, and, in shadiest covert, hid, 

Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus, with the year, 

Seasons return ; but, not to me, returns, 

Day, or, the sweet approach, of even, and morn, 

Or, sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, 

Or flocks, or herds, or human face, divine ; 

But, cloud, instead, and, ever-' during dark, 

Surrounds me ; from the cheerful ways, of men, 

Cut, off, and, for the book of knowledge fair, 

Presented, with a universal blank, 

Of Nature's works; to me, expunged, and razed; 

And wisdom, at one entrance, quite shut out. 

So much, the rather, thou, celestial Light, 

Shine, inward; and, the Mind, through all her powers, 

Irradiate ; there, plant eyes ; all mist, from thence, 

Purge, and disperse ; that, I may see, and tell, 

Of things, invisible, to mortal sight. 



Scene from "The Lights and Shadows of 
Scottish Life." 

The rite of baptism, had not been performed, for 
several months, in the kirk of Lanark. It was, now, 
the hottest time of persecution; and, the inhabitants, 
of that parish, found other places, in which, to worship 
God, and celebrate the ordinances of religion. It was 
the Sabbath day ; and, a small congregation, of about a 
hundred souls, had met, for divine service, in a place of 



FROM "LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF SCOTTISH LIFE." G3 

worship, more magnificent, than any temple, that human 
hands, had ever built, to Deity. Here, too, were three 
children, about to be baptized. The congregation, had 
not assembled, to the toll, of the bell; but, each heart, 
knew the hour* and, observed it ; for, there are a hun- 
dred sun-dials, among the hills, woods, moors, and fields, 
and, the shepherds, and the peasants, see the hours, 
passing by them, in sunshine, and shadow. 

The church, in which, they were assembled, was 
hewn, by God's hand, out of the eternal rocks. A river, 
rolled its way, through a mighty chasm, of cliffs, several 
hundred feet high; of which, the one side, presented 
enormous masses, and, the other, corresponding re- 
cesses; as if, the great stone girdle, had been rent, by 
a convulsion. The channel, was overspread, with pro- 
digious fragments of rocks, or, large loose stones ; some 
of them, smooth, and bare ; others, containing soil and 
verdure, in their rents, and fissures; and, here and 
there, crowned with shrubs, and trees. The eye, could, 
at once, command a long, stretching, vista, seemingly, 
closed, and shut up, at both extremities, by the 
coalescing cliffs. 

This majestic reach, of river, contained pools, streams, 
rushing shelves, and waterfalls, innumerable ; and, when 
the water, was low, which, it now was, in the common 
drought, it was easy, to walk up this scene, with the 
calm, blue, sky, overhead ; an utter, and sublime, soli- 
tude. On looking up, the soul, was bowed, down, by 
the feeling, of that prodigious height, of unscalable, and, 
often, overhanging, cliff. Between the channel, and the 
summit, of the far-extended precipices, were, perpetually, 
flying rooks, and wood-pigeons; and, now and then, a 
hawk ; filling the profound abyss, with their wild caw- 
ing, deep murmur, or shrilly shriek. 

Sometimes, a heron, would stand, erect, and still, on 



64 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

some little stone island ; or, rise up, like a white cloud, 
along the black walls, of the chasm, and disappear. 
Winged creatures, alone, could inhabit this region. The 
fox, and wild-cat, chose more accessible haunts. Yet, 
here came, the persecuted Christians, and worshipped 
God, whose hand, hung, over their heads, those magni- 
ficent pillars, and arches ; scooped, out, those galleries, 
from the solid rock; and, laid, at their feet, the calm 
water, in its transparent beauty, in which, they could 
see themselves, sitting, in reflected groups, with their 
Bibles, in their hands. 

The rite of baptism, was over ; and, the religious ser- 
vice, of the day, closed by a Psalm. The mighty rocks, 
hemmed in the holy sound, and sent it, in a more com- 
pacted volume, clear, sweet, and strong, up to heaven. 
When the Psalm, ceased, an echo, like a spirit's voice, 
was heard, dying away, high up, among the magnificent 
architecture, of the cliffs; and, once more, might be 
noticed, in the silence, the reviving voice, of the 
waterfall. 

Just then, a large stone, fell, from the top of the cliff, 
into the pool; a loud voice, was heard, and, a plaid, 
hung over, on the point, of a shepherd's staff. Their 
watchful sentinel, had descried danger; and, this, was 
his warning. Forthwith the congregation rose. There 
were ^aths, dangerous, to unpractised feet, along the 
edges of the rock, leading up, to several caves, and 
places of concealment. The more active, and young, 
assisted the elder ; more especially, the old pastor, and 
the women, with the infants ; and, many minutes, had 
not elapsed, till, not a living creature, was visible, in 
the channel of the stream ; but, all of them, hidden or 
nearly so, in the clefts, and caverns. 

The shepherd, who had given the alarm, had laid 
down, again, in his plaid, instantly, on the green sward, 



FROM "LIGIITS AND SHADOWS OF SCOTTISH LIFE." 05 

upon the summit, of these precipices. A party of sol- 
diers, were, immediately, upon him; and demanded, 
what signals, he had been making, and, to whom j when 
one of them, looking over the edge, of the cliff, ex- 
claimed, "See! see! Humphrey, we have caught the 
whole tabernacle, of the Lord, in a net, at last. There 
they are, praising God, among the stones, of the river 
Mouss. These, are the Cartland Craigs. By my soul's 
salvation, a noble cathedral." "Fling the lying sen- 
tinel, over the cliffs. Here is a canting covenanter, for 
you, deceiving honest soldiers, on the very Sabbath day. 
Over with him, over with him ; out of the gallery, into 
the pit." 

But, the shepherd, had vanished, like a shadow ; and, 
mixing with the tall green broom, and bushes, was 
making his unseen way, towards a wood. " Satan, has 
saved his servant; but, come my lads, follow me. I 
know the way, down, into the bed of the stream, and 
the steps, up, to Wallace's Cave. They are called, the 
1 Kittle Nine Stanes.' The hunt's up. We'll be all in, 
at the death. Halloo ! my boys, Halloo !" 

The soldiers, dashed down, a less precipitous part, 
of the wooded banks, a little below the "craigs," and, 
hurried up the channel. But, when they reached the 
altar, where the old, gray-haired, minister, had been 
seen, standing, and the rocks, that had been covered 
with people, all, was silent, and solitary; not a crea- 
ture, to be seen. " Here is a Bible, dropt by some of 
them," cried a soldier, and, with his foot, spurned it, 
away, into the pool. "A bonnet! a bonnet!" cried 
another; "now, foj^the pretty, sanctified, face, that 
rolled its demure eyes, below it." 

But, after a few jests, and oaths, the soldiers, stood 
still; eyeing, with a kind of mysterious dread, the 
black, and silent, walls of the rock, that hemmed them 

25* 



66 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

in; and, hearing only the small voice of the stream, 
that sent a profounder stillness, through the hearts, of 
that majestic solitude. " Curse these cowardly cove- 
nanters. What, if they tumble down, upon our heads, 
pieces of rock from their hiding places? Advance? 
Or retreat ?" 

There was no reply. For, a slight fear, was upon 
every man ; musket, or bayonet, could be of little use, 
to men, obliged to clamber up rocks, along slender paths, 
leading, they knew not, where ; and, they were aware, 
that, armed men, now-a-days, worshipped God; men of 
iron hearts ; who feared not the glitter, of the soldier's 
arms ; neither barrel, nor bayonet ; men, of long stride, 
firm step, and broad breast; who, on the open field, 
would have overthrown the marshalled line ; and, gone, 
first and foremost, if a city, had to be taken, by storm. 

As the soldiers, were standing, together, irresolute, a 
noise, came upon their ears, like distant thunder ; but, 
even more appalling; and, a slight current of air, as if 
propelled by it, passed, whispering, along the sweet- 
briers, and the broom, and the tresses, of the birch 
trees. It came, deepening, and rolling, and roaring, 
on; and, the very Cartland Craigs, shook, to their 
foundation, as if, in an earthquake. " The Lord, have 
mercy upon us ; what is this V And, down, fell, many 
of the miserable wretches, on their knees, and some, on 
their faces, upon the sharp-pointed rocks. Now, it was 
like the sound, of many myriads of chariots, rolling on 
their iron axles, down the stony channel, of the torrent. 

The old, gray-haired, minister, issued from the mouth 
of Wallace's Cave, and said, in a loud voice, "The Lord, 
God, terrible, reigneth." A water spout, had burst 
up, among the moorlands, and the river, in its power, 
was at hand. There it came, tumbling along, into that 
long reach of cliffs, and, in a moment, filled it, with one 



hamlet's soliloquy. G7 

mass of waves. Huge, agitated, clouds, of foam rode 
on the surface, of a blood-red torrent. An army, must 
have been swept off, by that flood. The soldiers, 
perished, in a moment; but, high up, in the cliffs, 
above the sweep of destruction, were the covenanters; 
men, women, and children, uttering prayers, to God, 
unheard, by themselves, in that raging thunder. 



Hamlet's Soliloquy. 



To be, or, not to be; that, is the question. 

Whether, His nobler, in the mind, to suffer 

The slings, and arrows, of outrageous fortune, 

Or, to take arms, against a sea of troubles, 

And, by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep ; 

No more ; and, by a sleep, to say, we end 

The heart-ache; and the thousand natural shocks, 

That, flesh, is heir to. 'Tis a consummation, 

Devoutly, to be wished. To die, to sleep ; 

To sleep? perchance, to dream; ay, there's the rub; 

For, in that sleep of death, what dreams, may come, 

When we have shuffled, off this mortal coil, 

Must give us, pause. There's the respect, 

That makes calamity, of so long life. 

For, who would bear the whips, and scorns of time, 

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, 

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 

The insolence of office, and the spurns, 

That patient merit, of the unworthy, takes ? 

When, he, himself, might, his quietus, make, 

With a bare bodkin. Who would, fardels, bear, 

To groan, and sweat, under a weary life ? 

But, that the dread, of something, after death, 



68 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

That undiscovered country, from whose bourne, 

No traveller returns, puzzles the will ; 

And, makes us, rather, bear those ills, we have, 

Than, fly, to others, that we know not of. 

Thus, conscience, doth make cowards, of us all ; 

And, thus, the native hue, of resolution, 

Is sicklied, o'er, with the pale cast, of thought; 

And enterprises, of great pith, and moment, 

With this regard, their currents, turn, awry, 

And, lose the name, of action ! 



The Country Bumpkin and Razor Seller. 

A fellow, in a market town, 

Most musical, cried razors, up and down ; 
And, offered twelve, for eighteen pence ; 

Which, certainly, seemed, wondrous cheap, 

And, for the money, quite a heap ; 
That, every man, would buy, with cash, and sense. 

A country bumpkin, the great offer, heard ; 

Poor Hodge, who suffered, by a broad, black, beard, 
That seemed, a shoe-brush, stuck, beneath his nose, 

With cheerfulness, the eighteen pence, he paid ; 

And, proudly, to himself, in whispers, said, 
" This rascal, stole the razors, I suppose. 

" No matter, if the fellow, be a knave ; 

Provided, that the razors, shave, 
It, certainly, will be, a monstrous prize." 

So, home, the clown, with his good fortune, went, 

Smiling; in heart and soul, content; 
And, quickly, soaped himself, to ears and eyes. 



THE COUNTRY BUMPKIN AND RAZOR SELLER. 69 

Being well lathered, from a dish, or tub, 

Hodge, now, began, with grinning pain, to grub ; 
Just, like a hedger, cutting furze ; 

'Twas a vile razor; then, the rest, he tried; 

All, were impostors. "Ah," Hodge, sighed, 
"I wish, my eighteen pence, were in my purse." 

In vain, to chase his beard, and bring the graces, 
He cut, and dug, and winced, and stamped, and swore, 

Brought blood, and danced, blasphemed, and made wry 
faces, 
And, cursed each razor's body, o'er and o'er. 
His muzzle, formed of opposition stuff, 
Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff; 

So, kept it ; laughing, at the steel, and suds. 
Hodge, in a passion, stretched his angry jaws, 
Vowing the direst vengeance, with clenched claws, 

On the vile cheat, that sold the goods. 

" Eazors ! a vile confounded dog ; 
Not fit, to scrape a hog." 

Hodge, sought the fellow ; found him ; and begun. 

" Perhaps, Master Eazor-rogue, to you, 'tis fun, 

That people, flay themselves, out of their lives ; 
You, rascal ! for an hour, have I been grubbing, 
Giving, my crying whiskers, here, a scrubbing, 

With razors, just like oyster-knives. 

" Sirrah ! I tell you, you're a knave, 
To cry up razors, that can't shave." 

" Friend," quoth the razor man, " I'm not, a knave ; 

As for the razors, you have bought, 

Upon my soul, I never thought, 
That they would shave." 



70 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

" Not think they'd shave V* quoth Hodge, with wonder- 
ing eyes, 

And voice, not much, unlike, an Indian yell, 
" "What were they made for, then, you dog?" he cries. 

" Made," quoth the fellow, with a smile, " to sell." 



Brougham and Canning. 

Upon that occasion, the oration of Brougham, was, at 
the outset, disjointed, and ragged; and, apparently, 
without aim, or application. He careered, over the 
whole annals, of the world, and, collected every in- 
stance, in which, genius, had degraded itself, at the foot- 
stool of power, or, principle, had been sacrificed, for the 
vanity, or the lucre of place ; but, still, there was no 
allusion to Canning, and, no connection, that ordinary 
men, could discover, with the business, before the house. 
When, however, he had collected every material, which 
suited his purpose, when the mass, had become big, and 
black, he bound it, about, and about, with the cords of 
illustration, and of argument. When its union, was 
secure, he swung it, round, and round, with the strength, 
of a giant, and the rapidity, of a whirlwind, in order, 
that its impetus, and its effect, might be, the more, 
tremendous; and, while doing this, he, ever and anon, 
glared his eye, and pointed his finger, to make the aim, 
and the direction, sure. 

Canning, himself, was the first, that seemed to be 
aware, where, and how terrible, was to be the collision ; 
and, he kept writhing, his body, in agony, and rolling 
his eyes, in fear, as if anxious, to find some shelter, from 
the impending bolt. The house, soon caught the im- 






BROUGHAM AND CANNING. 71 

pression; and, every man, in it, was glancing his eye, 
fearfully, first, toward the orator, and then, toward the 
secretary. There was, save the voice of Brougham, 
which growled, in under tone, of muttered thunder, 
which is so fearfully audible, and, of which, no speaker 
of the day, was fully master, but himself, a silence, as 
if the angel, of retribution, had been flaring, in the face, 
of all parties, the scroll of their personal, and political, 
sins. A pen, which one of the secretaries, dropt, upon 
the matting, was heard, in the remotest part of tho 
house; and, the voting members, who, often, slept, in 
the side galleries, during the debate, started up, as 
though, the final trump, had been calling them, to givo 
an account, of their deeds. 

The stiffness, of Brougham's figure, had vanished; 
his features, seemed concentrated, almost to a point ; he 
glanced, toward every part, of the house, in succession ; 
and, sounding the death-knell, of the secretary's for- 
bearance, and prudence, with both his clenched hands, 
upon the table, he hurled, at him, an accusation, more 
dreadful, in its gall, and more torturing, in its effects, 
than, ever had been hurled, at mortal man, within the 
same walls. The result, was instantaneous ; was elec- 
tric; it was, as when the thunder-cloud, descends, upon 
some giant peak; one flash, one peal; the sublimity 
vanished ; and, all that remained, was a small, and cold, 
pattering of rain. Canning, started to his feet, and was 
able, only, to utter the unguarded words, " It is false I" 
To this, followed, a dull chapter of apologies. From 
that moment, the house, became, more, a scene, of real 
business, than, of airy display, and angry vituperation. 



72 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



The Three "Warnings. 

When sports, went round, and all, were gay, 
On neighbor Dobson's wedding-day, 
Death, called, aside, the jocund groom, 
"With him, into another room ; 
And, looking grave, "You must," says he, 
" Quit your sweet bride, and come with me." 

" With you! and, quit my Susan's side ? 
With you !" the hapless husband, cried, 
"Young, as I am, 'tis monstrous hard; 
Besides, in truth, I'm not prepared; 
My thoughts, on other matters, go ; 
This, is my wedding-night, you know." 

What, more, he urged, I have not heard; 
His reasons, could not, well, be stronger; 

So, Death, the poor delinquent, spared, 
And left, to live, a little longer. 

Yet, calling up, a serious look, 

His hour-glass, trembled, while he spoke, 

"Neighbor," he said, "farewell; no more, 

Shall Death, disturb your mirthful hour; 

And, further, to avoid all blame, 

Of cruelty, upon my name, 

To give you, time, for preparation, 

And, fit you, for your future station, 

Three, several, warnings, you shall have, 

Before you're summoned, to the grave. 

Willing, for once, I'll quit my prey ; 

And, grant a kind reprieve; 
In hopes, you'll have no more, to say, 
But, when I call, again, this way, 

Well pleased, the world, will leave." 



THE THBEE WARNINGS. 73 

What, next, the hero of our tale, betel, 
How long, he lived, how wise, how well, 
ILow, roundly, he pursued his course, 
And, smoked his pipe, and stroked his horse, 

The willing muse, shall tell. 
Ho chaffered, then; he bought; he sold; 
Nor, once, perceived his growing old, 

Nor, thought of Death, as near. 
His friends, not false, his wife, no shrew, 
Many, his gains, his children, few, 

He passed his hours, in peace. 
But, while, he viewed his wealth, increase, 
While, thus, along life's dusty road, 
The beaten track, content, he trode, 
Old Time, whose haste, no mortal, spares, 
Uncalled, unheeded, unawares, 

Brought on, his eightieth year. 



And, now, one night, in musing mood, 

When, all alone, he sate, 

The unwelcome messenger of fate, 
Once more, before him, stood. 
Half killed, with anger, and surprise, 
" So soon returned !" old Dobson cries. 
" So soon, d'ye call it V* Death, replies, 
"Surely, my friend, you're but, in jest; 

Since I was here, before, 
'Tis six-and-thirty years, at least ; 

And you, are, now, fourscore." 

"So much, the worse," the clown, rejoined; 
" To spare the aged, would be kind ; 
Besides, you promised me, three warnings; 
Which, I have looked for, nights and mornings." 

26 



74 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

"I know," cries Death, "that, at the best, 
I, seldom, am a welcome, guest; 
But, don't be captious, friend, at least; 
I little thought, you'd, still, be able, 
To stump, about your farm, and stable. 
Your years, have run to a great length. 
I wish you joy, though, of your strength." 

"Hold !" says the farmer, "not so fast; 
I have been lame, these four years, past." 
"And, no great wonder," Death replies; 
"However, you, still, keep your eyes; 
And, sure, to see one's loves, and friends, 
For legs, and arms, would make amends." 
"Perhaps," says Dobson, "so it might; 
But, latterly, I've lost my sight." 
" This, is a shocking tale, 'tis true; 
Yet, still, there's comfort, left, for you; 
Each, strives, your sadness, to amuse ; 
I warrant, you hear all the news." 

"There's none," cries he, "and, if there were, 
I'm grown, so deaf, I could not hear." 
"Nay, then," the spectre, stern, rejoined, 
"These, are, unwarrantable yearnings. 
If you, are lame, and deaf, and blind, 

You've had your three, sufficient, warnings. 
So, come along ; no more, we'll part." 
He said, and, touched him, with his dart. 
And, now old, Dobson, turning pale, 
Yields to his fate. So, ends, my tale. 



BATTLE OF WARSAW. 75 



Battle of Warsaw. 

When, leagued Oppression, poured, to northern wars 
Her whiskered pandours, and, her fierce hussars, 
Waved her dread standard, to the breeze of morn, 
Pealed her loud drum, and, twanged her trumpet horn, 
Tumultuous horror, brooded, o'er her van, 
Presaging wrath, to Poland, and, to man. 

Warsaw's last champion, from her hight, surveyed, 

Wide o'er her fields, a waste of ruin, laid. 

"Oh Heaven !" he cried, "my bleeding county save. 

Is there no hand, on high, to shield the brave? 

Yet, though destruction, sweep these lovely plains, 

Eise, fellow men, our country, yet, remains. 

By that, dread, name, we wave the sword, on high, 

And, swear, for her, to live, with her, to die." 

He said, and, on the rampart-high ts, arrayed 
His trusty warriors ; few, but, undismayed ; 
Firm paced, and slow, a horrid front, they form ; 
Still, as the breeze; but, dreadful, as the storm. 
Low, murmuring, sounds, along their banners, fly; 
Revenge, or death ; the watchword, and reply. 
Then, pealed, the notes, omnipotent to charm ; 
And, the loud tocsin, tolled their last alarm. 

In vain, alas ! in vain, ye, gallant, few, 
From rank, to rank, your volleyed thunder, flew. 
Oh ! bloodiest picture, in the book of time ! 
Sarmatia, fell, unwept; without a crime. 
Found, not, a generous friend, a pitying foe, 
Strength, in her arms, nor, mercy, in her woe ; 



76 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Dropped, from her nerveless grasp, the shattered spear, 
Closed her bright eye, and, curbed her high career. 
Hope, for a season, bade the world, farewell ! 
And, Freedom, shrieked, as Kosciusko, fell. 



New England and the Union. 

Glorious New England, thou art, still, true, to thy 
ancient fame, and, worthy, of thy ancestral honors. On 
thy pleasant valleys, rest, like the sweet dews of morn- 
ing, the gentle recollections, of our early life ; around 
thy hills and mountains, cling, like gathering mists, the 
mighty memories, of the Eevolution ; and, far away, in 
the horizon, of thy past, gleam, like thy own, bright, 
northern, lights, the awful virtues, of our Pilgrim sires. 
But, while we devote this day, to the remembrance, of 
our native land, we forget not, that, in which our happy 
lot is cast. "We exult, in the reflection, that, though we 
count, by thousands, the miles, which separate us, from 
our birthplace, still, our country is. the same. "We are 
no exiles, meeting, on the banks of a foreign river, to 
swell its waters, with our homesick tears. Here, floats 
the same banner, which rustled, above our boyish heads; 
except, that its mighty folds, are wider, its glittering 
stars, increased in number. 

The sons of New England, are found, in every state, 
of the broad republic. In the East, the South, and, the 
unbounded West, their blood, mingles, freely, with every 
kindred current. "We have, but, changed our chamber, 
in the paternal mansion ; in all its rooms, we are at 
home ; and, all who inhabit it, are our brothers. To us, 
the Union, has but one, domestic hearth ; its household 






THE HERMIT. 77 

gods, are all the same. Upon us, then, peculiarly, de- 
volves, the duty, of feeding the fires, upon that kindly 
hearth ; of guarding, with pious care, those sacred house- 
hold gods. 

We cannot do, with less, than the whole Union ; to us, 
it admits, of no division. In the veins, of our children, 
flows Northern, and Southern, blood; how, shall it be 
separated ? who, shall put, asunder, the best affections 
of the heart ? the noblest instincts, of our nature ? We 
love the land, of our adoption ; so, do we, that, of our 
birth. Let us, ever, be true to both; and, always, exert 
ourselves, in maintaining the unity, of our country, the 
integrity, of the republic. 

Accursed, then, be the hand, put forth, to loosen the 
golden cord, of union ; thrice, accursed, the traitorous 
lips, which shall propose, its severance. 



The Hermit. 

At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, 
And mortals, the sweets of forgetfulness, prove, 

When naught, but the torrent, is heard, on the hill, 
And naught, but the nightingale's song, in the grove, 

It was thus, by the cave of the mountain, afar, 

While his harp, rung, symphonious, a hermit began ; 

No more, with himself, or with nature, at war, 
He thought, as a sage, though he felt, as a man- 

Ah, why, all abandoned, to darkness, and wo, 
Why, lone Philomela, that languishing fall ? 

For, Spring, shall return, and, a lover, bestow, 
And sorrow, no longer, thy bosom, inthral. 

2(5^ 



78 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

But, if pity, inspire thee, renew the sad lay ; 

Mourn, sweetest complainer, man, calls thee, to mourn; 
O, soothe him, whose pleasures, like thine, pass away; 

Full quickly, they pass, but, they, never, return. 

Now, gliding remote, on the verge, of the sky, 

The moon, half extinguished, her crescent, displays ; 
But, lately, I marked, when, majestic, on high, 

She shone, and, the planets, were lost, in her blaze. 
Roll on, thou fair orb, and, with gladness, pursue 

The path, that conducts thee, to splendor again; 
But, man's faded glory, what change, shall renew ? 

Ah fool, to exult, in a glory, so vain. 

'Tis night ; and, the landscape, is lovely, no more ; 

I mourn ; but, ye woodlands, I mourn not, for you ; 
For, morn is approaching, your charms, to restore, 

Perfumed, with fresh fragrance, and, glittering, with 
dew. 
Nor, yet, for the ravage of winter, I mourn ; 

Kind Nature, the embryo blossom, will save ; 
But, when, shall Spring, visit the mouldering urn? 

O, when, shall day, dawn, on the night, of the grave ? 

'Twas thus, by the glare, of false science, betrayed, 

That leads, to bewilder, and, dazzles, to blind, 
My thoughts, wont, to roam, from shade, onward to 
shade ; 

Destruction, before me, and sorrow, behind. 
O pity, great Father of Light, then, I cried, 

Thy creature, who, fain, would not wander, from thee. 
Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride ; 

From doubt, and, from darkness, thou, only, canst 
free. 



ANTONY'S ORATION OVER CiESAR'S BODY. 79 

And, darkness, and doubt, are, now, flying away ; 

No longer, I roam, in conjecture, forlorn; 
So, breaks, on the traveller, faint, and astray, 

The bright, and the balmy, effulgence of morn. 
See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in triumphs, descending, 

And Nature, all glowing, in Eden's first bloom ; 
On the cold cheek, of Death, smiles, and roses, are 
blending, 

And, Beauty, immortal, awakes, from the tomb. 



Antony's Oration over Cesar's Body. 
• 

Friends, Eomans, countrymen, lend me, your ears. 
I come, to bury Ca3sar, not, to praise him. 
The evil, that men do, lives, after them ; 
The good, is, oft, interred, with their bones. 
So, let it be, with Caesar. Noble Brutus, 
Hath told you, Csesar, was ambitious. 
If it were so, it was a grievous fault ; 
And, grievously, hath Csesar, answered it. 
Here, under leave, of Brutus, and the rest, 
For, Brutus, is an honorable man, 
So, are they all, all, honorable men, 
Come I, to speak, at Caesar's funeral. 

He was my friend ; faithful, and just, to me. 
But, Brutus, says, he was, ambitious ; 
And, Brutus, is, an honorable man. 
He hath brought many captives, home, to Eome, 
Whose ransoms, did, the general coffers, fill; 
Did this, in Caesar, seem ambitious ? 
When, that the poor, have cried, Caesar, hath wept; 
Ambition, should be made, of sterner stuff. 
Yet, Brutus, says, he was, ambitious; 



80 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

And, Brutus, is, an honorable man. 

You, all, did see, that, on the Lupercal, 

I, thrice, presented him, a kingly crown ; 

Which, he, did thrice, refuse. Was this ambition ? 

Yet, Brutus, says, he was, ambitious; 

And, sure, he, is, an honorable man. 

I speak not, to disprove what, Brutus, spoke ; 

But, here I am, to speak what, I, do know. 

You, all, did love him, once, not, without cause ; 
What cause, withholds you, then, to mourn for him? 
O, judgment, thou art fled, to brutish beasts; 
And men, have lost their reason. Bear, with me. 
My heart, is, in the coffin, there, with Caesar ; 
And, I must pause, till it come back, to me. 

But yesterday, the word, of Caesar, might 
Have stood, against the world ; now, lies he, there, 
And, none, so poor, to do him, reverence. 

masters, if I were disposed, to stir 

Your hearts, and minds, to mutiny, and rage, 

1 should do Brutus, wrong, and, Cassius, wrong; 
Who, you all know, are honorable men. 

I will not do them, wrong. I, rather, choose, 

To wrong the dead; to wrong myself, and you, 

Than, I will wrong such, honorable, men. 

But, here's a parchment, with the seal of Caesar; 

I found it, in his closet ; 'tis his will. 

Let, but the commons, hear this testament, 

Which, pardon me, I do not mean, to read, 

And, they would go, and kiss dead Caesar's wounds; 

And, dip their napkins, in his sacred blood; 

Yea, beg a hair of him, for memory ; 

And, dying, mention it, within their wills: 

Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, 

Unto their issue. 



ANTONY'S ORATION OVER CiESAR'S BODY. 81 

If you have tears, prepare, to shed them now. 
You, all, do know this mantle. I, remember 
The first time, ever Caesar put it, on. 
'Twas, on a summer's evening, in his tent; 
That day, he overcame the Nervii. 
Look! in this place, ran, Cassius' dagger, through. 
See, what a rent, the envious Casca, made. 
Through this, the well beloved Brutus, stabbed ; 
And, as he plucked his cursed steel, away, 
Mark, how the blood, of Csesar, followed it. 
This, was the most unkindest cut, of all. 
For, when the noble Caesar, saw him, stab, 
Ingratitude, more strong, than traitors' arms, 
Quite, vanquished him » then, burst, his mighty heart ; 
And, in this mantle, muffling up his face, 
Even at the base, of Pompey's statue, 
"Which, all the while, ran blood, great Caesar fell. 
Oh ! what a fall was there ! my countrymen. 
Then, I, and you, and, all of us, fell down, 
Whilst bloody treason, flourished over us. 
Oh ! now, you. weep ; and, I perceive, you feel 
The dint, of pity ; these are gracious drops. 
Kind souls ! what ! weep you, when you, but, behold 
Our Caesar's vesture, wounded? Look you, here ! 
Here, is himself; marred, as you see, by traitors. 

Good friends, sweet friends, let me not, stir you up, 
To such a flood of mutiny. 
They, that have done this deed, are honorable ; 
And, will, no doubt, with reason, answer you. 
I come not, friends, to steal, away, your hearts. 
I, am no orator, as Brutus, is ; 
But, as you know me, all, a plain blunt man, 
That love my friend; and that, they know, full well, 
That gave me, public leave, to speak of him. 
For, I have, neither, wit, nor words, nor worth, 



82 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Action, nor utterance, nor power of speech, 
To stir men's blood. I, only, speak right on; 
I tell you, that, which you, yourselves, do know; 
Show you, sweet Caesar's wounds; poor, poor, dumb, 

mouths, 
And, bid them, speak for me. But, were I, Brutus, 
And, Brutus, Antony, there, were an Antony, 
"Would ruffle up, your spirits, and, put a tongue, 
In every wound, of Caesar, that would move, 
The stones, of Eome, to rise in mutiny. 



Street Scene, between Brutus, and Cassius. 

Cassius. Will you go, see the order of the course ? 

Brutus. Not I. 

Cas. I pray you, do. 

Bru. I am not gamesome. I do lack some part, 
Of that quick spirit, that is, in Antony. 
Let me, not hinder, Cassius, your desires; 
I'll leave you. 

Cas. Brutus, I do observe you, now, of late ; 
I have not, from your eyes, that gentleness, 
And show of love, as I was wont, to have; 
You bear too stubborn, and, too strange, a hand, 
Over your friend, that loves you. 

Bru. Cassius, 
Be not deceived; if, I have veiled my look, 
I turn the trouble, of my countenance 
Merely upon myself. Yexed, I am, 
Of late, with passions, of some difference ; 
Conceptions, only proper, to myself; 
Which give some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors ; 



STREET SCENE, BETWEEN BRUTUS, AND CASSIUS. 83 

But, let not, therefore, my good friends, be grieved, 
Among which number, Cassius, be you one ; 
Nor, construe, any further, my neglect, 
Than, that poor Brutus, with himself, at war, 
Forgets the shows, of love, to other men. 

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have, much, mistook your pas- 
sion. 
By means, whereof, this breast, of mine, hath buried 
Thoughts, of great value ; worthy cogitations. 
Tell me, good Brutus, can you see your face ? 

Bru. No, Cassius, for the eye, sees not itself, 
But, by reflection, by some other things. 

Cas. 'Tis just. 
And, it is, very much, lamented, Brutus, 
That you, have no such mirror, as will turn 
Your hidden worthiness, into your eye ; 
That you, might see your shadow. I have heard, 
Where many, of the best respect, in Kome, 
(Except immortal Caesar), speaking of Brutus, 
And, groaning, underneath this age's yoke, 
Have wished, noble Brutus, had his eyes. 

Bru. Into what dangers, would you lead me, Cassius, 
That, you would have me, seek, into myself, 
For that, which is not, in me ? 

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared, to hear ; 
And, since you know, you cannot see yourself, 
So well, as by reflection, I, your glass, 
Will, modestly, discover, to yourself, 
That, of yourself, which you, yet, know not of. 
And, be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus. 
Were I, a common laugher, or, did use 
To stale, with ordinary oaths, my love, 
To every new protestor, if you know, 
That, I do fawn, on men, and, hug them, hard, 
And, after, scandal them, or, if you know, 



84 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

That I profess myself, in banqueting, 
To all the rout, then, hold me, dangerous. 

Bru. What means tKis shouting ? I do fear, the people, 
Choose Caesar, for their king. 

Cas. Ay, do you fear it ? 
Then, I must think, you, would not have it, so. 

Bru. I would not, Cassius ; yet, I love him, well. 
But, wherefore, do you hold me, here, so long ? 
What is it, that you would impart, to me ? 
If it be aught, toward the general good, 
Set honor, in one eye, and, death, in the other, 
And, I will look, upon both, indifferently. 
For, let the gods, so speed me, as I love 
The name, of honor, more, than I fear death. 

Cas. I know that virtue, to be in you, Brutus, 
As well, as I do know your outward favor. 
Well, honor, is the subject, of my story. 
I cannot tell, what you, and other men, 
Think, of this life, but, for my single self, 
I had as lief, not be, as live, to be, 
In awe, of such a thing, as I, myself. 
I, was born, free, as Caesar ; so, were you ; 
We, both, have fed, as well ; and, we can both, 
Endure the winter's cold, as well, as he. 
For, once, upon a raw, and gusty, day, 
The troubled Tiber, chafing, with his shores, 
Csesar, says to me, Darest thou, Cassius, now, 
Leap in, with me, into this angry flood, 
And, swim, to yonder point ? Upon the word, 
Accoutred, as I was, I plunged in, 
And, bade him, follow; so, indeed, he did. 
The torrent, roared ; and, we did buffet it, 
With lusty sinews ; throwing it, aside, 
And, stemming it, with hearts, of controversy. 
But, ere we could arrive, the point, proposed, 



STREET SCENE, BETWEEN BRUTUS, AND CASSIUS. 85 

Caesar cried, Help me, Cassius, or I sink. 

I, as jEneas, our great ancestor, 

Did, from the flames of Troy, upon his shoulders, 

The old Anchises, bear, so, from the waves of Tiber, 

Did I, the tired Caesar. And, this man, 

Is now, become, a god ; and Cassius, is 

A wretched creature ; and, must bend his body, 

If Caesar, carelessly, but nod, on him. 

He had a fever, when he was in Spain, 

And, when the fit, was on him, I did mark, 

How he did shake. 'Tis true; this god, did shake; 

His coward lips, did, from their color, fly; 

And, that same eye, whose bend, doth awe the world, 

Did lose its lustre. I did hear him, groan ; 

Ay, and that tongue, of his, that bade the Eomans, 

Mark him, and write his speeches, in their books, 

Alas, it cried, Give me, some drink, Titinius ; 

As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, 

A man, of such a feeble temper, should 

So, get the start, of the majestic world, 

And, bear the palm, alone. 

Bru. Another general shout ! 
I do believe, that these applauses, are, 
For some new honors, that are heaped, on Caesar. 

Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world, 
Like a Colossus ; and we, petty men, 
Walk under his huge legs; and peep, about, 
To find ourselves, dishonorable graves. 
Men, at some times, are masters, of their fates ; 
The fault, dear Brutus, is not, in our stars, 
But, in ourselves ; that we are underlings. 
Brutus ! and Caesar ! what, should be, in that Caesar ? 
Why, should that name, be sounded, more than yours ? 
Write them, together ; yours, is as fair a name ; 
Sound them; it doth become the mouth, as well; 



86 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Weigh them ; it is, as heavy ; conjure, with them ; 
Brutus, will start a spirit, as soon, as Caesar. 
Now, in the name, of all the gods, at once, 
Upon what meats, doth this, our Caesar, feed ? 
That he is grown, so great. Age, thou art shamed ; 
Rome, thou hast lost the breed, of noble bloods; 
"When, went there by, an age, since the great flood, 
But, it was famed, with more, than one man ? 
"When, could, they say, till now, that talked of Rome, 
That her wide walls, encompassed but one man ? 
O, you, and I, have heard our fathers, say, 
There was a Brutus, once, that would have brooked 
The eternal devil, to keep his state, in Rome, 
As easily, as a king. 

Bru. That you do love me, I am nothiDg jealous; 
"What you would work me to,/ 1 have some aim ; 
How I have thought, of this, and, of these times, 
I shall recount, hereafter; for this present, 
I would not, so, with love, I might entreat you, 
Be, any further, moved. "What you have said, 
I will consider; what you have to say, 
I will, with patience, hear ; and, find a time, 
Both meet, to hear, and, answer, such high things. 
Till then, my noble friend, chew upon this; 
Brutus, had, rather, be a villager, 
Than, to repute himself, a son of Rome, 
Under such hard conditions, as this time, 
Is like, to lay upon us. 

Cas. I am glad, that my weak words, 
Have struck, but thus much show of fire, from Brutus. 



MACBETH MEDITATING THE MURDER OF DUNCAN. 87 



Macbeth meditating the Murder of Duncan. 

If it were done, when 'tis done, then, 'twere well, 
It were done, quickly. If the assassination, 
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch, 
With his surcease, success, that, but this blow, 
Might be, the be-all, and, the end-all, here, 
But, here, upon this bank, and shoal, of time, 
We'd jump the life to come. But, in these cases, 
We, still, have judgment here ; that, we but teach 
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return, 
To plague the inventor; thus, even-handed justice, 
Commends the ingredients, of our poisoned chalice, 
To our own lips. He's here, in double trust; 
First, as I am his kinsman, and his subject; 
Strong, both, against the deed ; then, as his host, 
Who should, against his murderer, shut the door; 
Not, bear the knife, myself. Besides, this Duncan, 
Hath borne his faculties, so meek, hath been 
So clear, in his great office, that, his virtues, 
Will plead, like angels, trumpet-tongued, against 
The deep damnation, of his taking-off; 
And pity, like a naked new-born babe, 
Striding the blast,~or, -heaven's cherubim, horsed, 
Upon the sightless couriers of the air, 
Shall blow the horrid deed, to every eye, 
That, tears shall drown the wind. 



Collins' Ode on the Passions. 

When Music, heavenly maid, was young, 
Ere yet, in early Greece, she sung, 



88 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

The Passions, oft, to hear her shell, 
Thronged, around her magic cell ; 
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, 
Possessed, beyond the Muse's painting. 
By turns, they felt the glowing mind, 
Disturbed, delighted, raised, refined; 
Till, once, 'tis said, when all, were fired, 
Pilled with fury, rapt, inspired, 
Prom the supporting myrtles, round ; 
They snatched her instruments, of sound, 
And, as they, oft, had heard, apart, 
Sweet lessons, of her forceful art, 
Each (for Madness ruled the hour) 
Would prove his own, expressive, power. 

Pirst, Fear, his hand, its skill to try, 
Amid the chords, bewildered laid; 

And, back recoiled; he knew not, why; 
E'en at the sound, himself had made. 

Next, Anger, rushed ; his eyes, on fire, 
In lightnings, owned his secret stings ; 

In one, rude, clash, he struck the lyre, 

And swept, with hurried hand, the strings. 

With woful measures, wan Despair ; 

Low, sullen, sounds, his grief, beguiled ; 
A solemn, strange, and mingled air; 

'Twas sad, by fits, by starts, 'twas wild. 

But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, 

What, was thy delighted measure ? 
Still it whispered promised pleasure ; 
And, bade the lovely scenes, at distance, hail. 

Still, would her touch, the strain, prolong, 



COLLINS* ODE ON THE PASSIONS. 89 

And, from the rocks, the woods, the vale, 
She called on Echo, still, through all the song. 
And, where her sweetest theme, she chose, 
A soft, responsive, voice, was heard, at every close ; 
And Hope, enchanted, smiled, and waved her golden hair. 

And, longer, had she sung ; but, with a frown, 

Revenge, impatient, rose; 
He threw his blood-stained sword, in thunder, down ; 
And, with a withering look, 
The war denouncing trumpet, took, 
And blew a blast, so loud, and dread, 

Were ne'er prophetic sounds, so full of wo; 
And, ever and anon, he beat 
The doubling drum, with furious heat ; 
And, though, sometimes, each dreary pause, between, 
Dejected Pity, at his side, 
Her soul subduing voice, applied, 
Yet, still, he kept his wild, unaltered mien, 
While, each, strained, ball of sight, seemed, bursting from 
his head. 

Thy numbers, Jealousy, to naught, were fixed; 

Sad proof, of thy distressful state ; 
Of differing themes, the veering song, was mixed; 

And now, it courted Love; now, raving, called on 
Hate. 

With eyes, upraised, as one, inspired, 

Pale Melancholy, sat, retired ; 

And, from her wild, sequestered, seat, 

In notes, by distance, made more sweet, 
Poured, through the mellow horn, her pensive soul ; 

And, dashing soft, from rocks, around, 

Bubbling runnels, joined the sound; 
Through glades and glooms, the mingled measure, stole ; 

27* 



90 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay; 

Eound, a holy calm, diffusing, 

Love of peace, and lonely musing, 
In hollow murmurs, died, away. 

But, O, how altered, was its sprightlier tone, 

When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, 
Her bow, across her shoulder, flung, 

Her buskins, gemmed, with morning dew, 

Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, 
The hunter's call; to fawn and dryad, known. 

The oak-crowned sisters, and their chaste-eyed queen, 
Satyrs, and sylvan boys, were seen, 

Peeping, from forth, their alleys green ; 

Brown Exercise, rejoiced to hear; 
And Sport, leaped up, and, seized his beechen spear. 

Last, came Joy's ecstatic trial; 
He, with viny crown, advancing, 
First, to the lively pipe, his hand addressed; 

But, soon, he saw the brisk, awakening, viol ; 
Whose sweet, entrancing, voice, he loved, the best. 
They would have thought, who heard the strain, 
They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids, 
Amidst the festal-sounding shades, 

To some, unweared, minstrel, dancing; 

While, as his flying fingers, kissed the strings, 

Love, framed, with Mirth, a gay, fantastic, round; 

Loose, were her tresses, seen, her zone, unbound ; 

And he, amidst the frolic play, 

As if, he would, the charming air, repay, 

Shook thousand odors, from his dewy wings. 



SPEECH OF PATRICK HENRY. 91 



Speech of Patrick Henry. 

Mr. President, It is natural, to man, to indulge, in the 
illusions of hope. We are apt, to shut our eyes, against 
a painful truth, and, listen, to that siren, till she trans- 
forms us, into beasts. Is this, the part of wise men, en- 
gaged, in a great, and arduous, struggle, for liberty? Are 
we, disposed, to be, of the number of those, who, having 
eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things, 
which, so nearly, concern their temporal salvation ? For 
my part, whatever anguish of spirit, it may cost, I am 
willing, to know the whole truth ; to know the worst, 
and, to provide for it. 

I have but one lamp, by which, my feet, are guided ; 
and that, is the lamp of experience. I know of no way, of 
judging of the future, but, by the past ; and, judging, by 
the past, I wish to know, what there has been, in the 
conduct, of the British ministry, for the last, ten, years, 
to justify those hopes, with which, gentlemen, have been 
pleased, to solace themselves, and the house ? Is it that 
insidious smile, with which, our petition, has been, lately, 
received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove, a snare to 
your feet ; suffer not yourselves, to be betrayed, with a 
kiss. 

Ask yourselves, how this gracious reception of our 
petition, comports, with those warlike preparations, 
which cover our waters, and, darken our land. Are 
fleets, and armies, necessary to a work of love, and re- 
conciliation ? Have we shown ourselves, so unwilling:, 
to bo reconciled, that force, must be called in, to win 
back our love ? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir ; these, 
are the implements of war, and subjugation ; the last 
arguments, to which, kings resort. 

I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array, 



92 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

if its purpose, be not, to force us, to submission ? Can 
gentlemen, assign any other, possible, motive for it? 
Has Great Britain, any enemy, in this quarter of the 
world, to call for all this accumulation, of navies and 
armies ? No, sir, she has none. They are meant, for us; 
they can be meant, for no other. They are sent over, to 
bind, and rivet, upon us, those chains, which, the British, 
ministry have been, so long, forging. And, what have 
we, to oppose to them ? Shall we try argument ? Sir, 
we have been trying that, for the last ten years. Have 
we anything new, to offer, upon the subject? Nothing. 
We have held the subject, up, in every light, of which it 
is capable ; but, it has been, all in vain. 

Shall we resort to entreaty? and, humble supplication? 
What terms, shall we find, which, have not been, already, 
exhausted ? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive 
ourselves, longer. Sir, we have done every thing, that 
could be done, to avert the storm, that is now coming 
on. We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we 
have supplicated, we have prostrated ourselves, before 
the throne, and, have implored its interposition, to arrest 
the tyrannical hands, of the ministry, and parliament. 
Our petitions, have been slighted ; our remonstrances, 
have produced additional violence and insult; our sup- 
plications, have been disregarded; and, we have been 
spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne. 

In vain, after these things, may we, indulge the fond 
hope, of peace, and reconciliation. There is, no longer, 
any room for hope. If we wish, to be free, if we mean, 
to preserve, inviolate, those inestimable privileges, for 
which, we have been, so long, contending, if we mean 
not, basely, to abandon the noble struggle, in which, we 
have been, so long, engaged, and, which, we have pledged 
ourselves, never to abandon, until the glorious object, of 
our contest, shall be obtained, we must fight. I repeat it, 



SPEECH OF PATRICK IIENRY. 93 

sir, -\ve must fight. An appeal to arms, and, to tho God 
of Hosts, is all that is left ns. 

They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope, 
with so formidable an adversary. But, when shall wo 
be stronger ? Will it be, the next week, or tho next 
year ? Will it be, when we are totally disarmed, and, 
when a British guard, shall be stationed, in every house ? 
Shall we gather strength, by irresolution, and inaction ? 
Shall we acquire the means, of effectual resistance, by 
lying, supinely, on our backs, and, hugging the delusive 
phantom, hope, until our enemies, shall have bound us, 
hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a 
proper use, of those means, which, the God of nature, 
hath placed, in our power. 

Three millions of people, armed, in the holy cause of 
liberty, and, in such a country, as that, which we pos- 
sess, are invincible, against any force, which, our enemy, 
can send, against us. Besides, sir, we shall not, fight 
our battles, alone; there is a just God, who presides, over 
the destinies of nations ; and, who will raise up friends, 
to fight our battles, for US; The battle, sir, is not, to the 
strong, alone ; it is, to the vigilant, the active, the brave. 
Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base 
enough, to desire it, it is now, too late, to retire, from 
the contest. There is no retreat, but, in submission, and 
slavery. Our chains, are forged; their clanking, may 
be heard, on the plains of Boston. The war, is inevita- 
ble ; and, let it come ; I repeat it, sir, let it come. 

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen, 
may cry peace, peace, but, there is no peace. The war, 
is actually begun. The next gale, that sweeps, from the 
north, will bring, to our ears, the clash, of resounding 
arms. Our brethren, are, already, in the field. Why, 
stand, we, here, idle ? What is it, that gentlemen wish ? 
What, would they have? Is life, so dear, or peace, so 



94 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

sweet, as to be purchased, at the price, of chains, and 
slavery ? I know not, what course, others, may take ; 
but, as for me, give me, liberty, or, give me, death. 



Sincerity. 



Truth and sincerity, have all the advantages, of ap- 
pearance, and many more. If the show, of anything, 
be good, I am sure, the reality, is better; for, why, does 
any man, dissemble, or seem to be, that, which, he is 
not ? but, because, he thinks it good, to have the quali- 
ties, he pretends to. Now, the best way, for a man, to 
seem to be anything, is, to be, in reality, what he would 
seem to be; besides, it is, often, as troublesome, to sup- 
port the pretence, of a good quality, as to have it ; and, 
if a man, have it not, it is most likely, he will be dis- 
covered, to want it; and, then, all his labor, to seem to 
have it, is lost. There is something, unnatural, in paint- 
ing, which, a skilful, eye, will easily discern, from native 
beauty, and complexion. 

Therefore, if any man, think it convenient, to seem 
good, let him be, so, indeed ; and then, his goodness, will 
appear, to every one's satisfaction. Particularly, as to 
the affairs, of this world, integrity, hath many advan- 
tages, over all the artificial modes, of dissimulation and 
deceit. It is much the plainer, and easier, much the 
safer, and more secure way, of dealing, in the world; it 
has less, of trouble, and difficulty, of entanglement, and 
perplexity, of danger, and hazard, in it. 

The arts, of deceit and cunning, continually, grow 
weaker, and, less serviceable, to those, that practise 
them; whereas, integrity, gains strength, by use; and, 



SINCERITY. 95 

the more, and longer, any man, practiseth it, the greater 
service, it does him; by confirming his reputation, and 
encouraging those, with whom, he hath to do, to repose 
the greatest confidence, in him; which is, an unspeakable 
advantage, in business, and, the affairs of life. 

But, insincerity, is very troublesome, to manage. A 
hypocrite, has so many things, to attend to, as make 
his life, a very perplexed and intricate thing. A liar, 
hath need, of a good memory; lest, he contradict, at 
one time, what ho said, at another; but, truth, is 
always consistent; and, needs nothing, to help it out; 
it is, always, near at hand; and, sits, upon our lips; 
whereas, a lie, is troublesome ; and, needs a great, many, 
more, to make it good. 

In a word, whatsoever convenience, may be thought 
to be, in falsehood, and dissimulation, it is soon over; 
but, the inconvenience of it, is perpetual; because, it 
brings a man, under an everlasting jealousy and suspi- 
cion; so that, he is not believed, when he speaks the 
truth; nor, trusted, when, perhaps, he means honestly. 
When a man, has, once, forfeited the reputation, of his 
integrity, nothing, will then, serve his turn; neither, 
truth, nor falsehood. 

Indeed, if a man, were only to deal, in the world, for 
a day, and, should, never, have occasion, to converse 
more, with mankind, it were, then, no great matter, (as 
far as respects the affairs of this world) if he spent his 
reputation, all at once; or, ventured it, at one throw. 
But, if he be to continue, in the world, and, would have 
the advantage, of reputation, whilst he is in it, let him, 
make use, of truth and sincerity, in all his words and 
actions ; for, nothing but this, will hold out, to the end. 
All other arts, may fail; but, truth, and integrity, will 
carry a man, through; and, bear him out, to the last. 



96 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



Passage of the Rubicon. 



A gentleman, Mr. Chairman, speaking of Caesar's 
benevolent disposition, and, of the reluctance, with which, 
he entered into civil war, observes, " How long did he 
pause, upon the brink of the Eubicon !" How came 
he, to the brink of that river ? How dared he cross it ? 
Shall private man, respect the boundaries, of private 
property, and, shall a man, pay no respect, to the 
boundaries of his country's rights? How dared he 
cross that river? O! but he paused, upou the brink. 
He should have perished upon the brink, ere he had 
crossed it. 

Why did he pause ? Why does a man's heart, palpi- 
tate, when he is on the point, of committing an un- 
lawful deed? Why does the very murderer, his victim 
sleeping before him, and his glaring eye, taking mea- 
sure of the blow, strike wide of the mortal part ? Be- 
cause of conscience. 'Twas that, made Caesar, pause, 
upon the brink of the Eubicon. Compassion ! What 
compassion ? The compassion of an assassin, that feels 
a momentary shudder, as his weapon, begins to cut ! 

Caesar, paused, upon the brink of the Eubicon ! What 
was the Eubicon ? The boundary of Caesar's province. 
From what, did it separate his px*ovince? From his 
country. Was that country a desert ? No, it was culti- 
vated, and fertile ; rich, and populous ! Its sons, were 
men of genius, spirit, and generosity ! Its daughters, 
were lovely, susceptible, and chaste ! Friendship, was 
its inhabitant! Love, was its inhabitant! Domestic 
affection, was its inhabitant! Libert}', was its inha- 
bitant ! All, bounded, by the stream of the Eubicon ! 

What was Caesar, that stood upon the bank of that 
stream? A traitor, bringing war, and pestilence, into 






MILTON ON HIS LOSS OF SIGHT. 97 

the heart of that country ! No wonder, that he paused; 
no wonder, if, his imagination, wrought upon by his 
conscience, he had beheld blood, instead of water; and, 
heard groans, instead of murmurs! ~No wonder, if 
some gorgon horror, had turned him, into stone, upon 
the spot ! But no ! he cried — " The die is cast I" He 
plunged ! he crossed ! And, Eome, was free, no more ! 



Milton on his Loss of Sight. 

I am old, and blind ; 
Men point at me, as smitten, by God's frown ; 
Afflicted, and deserted, by my kind, 

Yet, I am not, cast down. 

I am weak, yet strong ; 
I murmur not, that I no longer see ; 
Poor, old, and helpless, I, the more, belong, 

Father Supreme ! to Thee. 

O merciful One ! 
When men, are farthest, then art Thou, most near; 
When friends, pass by, my weaknesses, to shun, 

Thy chariot, I hear. 

Thy glorious face, 
Is leaning, toward me, and, its holy light, 
Shines in, upon my lonely dwelling place; 

And, there is, no more night. 

On my bended knee, 
I recognize Thy purpose, clearly shown ; 



98 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

My vision, Thou hast dimmed, that I may see 
Thyself; Thyself, alone. 

I have nought, to fear ; 
This darkness, is the shadow, of Thy wing; 
Beneath it, I am almost sacred ; here, 

Can come, no evil thing. 

Oh ! I seem to stand, 
Trembling, where foot of mortal, ne'er hath been ; 
Wrapped, in the radiance, from Thy sinless land, 

"Which eye, hath never seen. 

Yisions, come, and go ; 
Shapes of resplendent beauty, round me, throng; 
From angel lips, I seem to hear the flow, 

Of soft, and holy, song. 

It is nothing now, 
When Heaven, is opening, on my sightless eyes, 
When airs, from Paradise, refresh my brow, 
That earth, in darkness, lies. 

In a purer clime, 
My being, fills with rapture ; waves of thought, 
Eoll in, upon my spirit ; strains sublime, 

Break over me, unsought. 

Give me, now, my lyre ! 
I feel the stirrings, of a gift divine ; 
Within my bosom, glows unearthly fire, 

Lit, by no skill of mine. 



DIRGE IN CYMBELINE. 99 



Dirge in Cymbeline. 

(sung by guiderus and arviragus over fidele, sup- 
posed TO BE DEAD.) 

To fair Fidele's grassy tomb, 

Soft maids and village hinds, shall bring 

Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom, 
And, rifle all the breathing Spring. 

No wailing ghost, shall dare appear, 
To vex, with shrieks, this quiet grove ; 

But, shepherd lads, assemble here, 
And melting virgins, own their love. 

No withered witch, shall here be seen, 
No goblins, lead their nightly crew ; 

The female fays, shall haunt the green, 
And, dress thy grave, with pearly dew. 

The red-breast, oft, at evening hours, 

Shall, kindly, lend his little aid, 
With hoary moss, and gathered flowers, 

To deck the ground, where thou art laid. 

When howling winds, and beating rain, 
In tempests, shake thy sylvan cell, 

Or, 'midst the chase, on every plain, 

The tender thought, on thee, shall dwell, 

Each lonely scene, shall thee restore ; 

For thee, the tear be duly shed ; 
Beloved, till life can charm, no more, 

And, mourned, till Pity's self, be dead. 



100 exercises in elocution. 

Part of the Burial Service, 
(from the book of common prayer.) 

I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord ; he 
that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he 
live : and, whosoever liveth, and believeth in me, shall 
never die. 

I know that my Eedeemer liveth, and, that he shall 
stand, at the latter day, upon the earth; and, though 
worms destroy this body, yet, in my flesh, shall I see 
God. 

Behold, thou hast made my days, as it were, a span 
long; and mine age, is even as nothing, in respect of 
thee ; and, verily, every man living, is altogether vanity : 
for, man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth 
himself, in vain : he heapeth up riches, and cannot tell 
who shall gather them. 

A thousand years, in thy sight, are but as yesterday : 
seeing that, is past, as a watch, in the night. As soon 
as thou scatterest them, they are even as a sleep : and, 
fade away, suddenly, like the grass. In the morning, 
it is green, and groweth up ; but, in the evening, it is 
cut down, dried up, and withered. 

We consume away, in thy displeasure, and, are 
afraid, at thy wrathful indignation : for, when thou art 
angry, all our days are gone ; and, we bring our years, 
to an end, as it were a tale, that is told. So teach us to 
number our days, that we may apply our hearts, unto 
wisdom. 

Now, is Christ risen from the dead; and, become the 
first fruits, of them that slept : for, since, by man, 
came death, by man, came, also, the resurrection of the 
dead. As, in Adam, all die, even so, in Christ, shall ail 
be made alive. But, some man, will say, " How are the 



PART OP THE BURIAL SERVICE. 101 

dead raised up ? and, with what body, do they come V 
Thou fool ! that, which thou sowest, is not quickened, 
except it die : and, that, which thou sowest, thou sowest 
not that body, that shall be, but bare grain, — it may 
chance, of wheat, or, of some other grain : but, God, 
giveth it a body, as it hath pleased him ; and, to every 
seed, his own body. So, also, is the resurrection of the 
dead. It is sown, in corruption ; it is raised, in incor- 
ruption. It is sown, in dishonor ; it is raised, in glory. 
It is sown, in weakness; it is raised, in power. It is 
sown, a natural body; it is raised, a spiritual body. 
Now, this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood, cannot 
inherit the kingdom of God : neither doth corruption, 
inherit incorruption. 

Behold, I show you, a mystery. We shall not all 
sleep : but, we shall all be changed, in a moment, — in 
the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the 
trumpet, shall sound, and the dead, shall be raised, in- 
corruptible; and, we shall be changed. For, this cor- 
ruptible, must put on incorruption; and this mortal, 
must put on immortality. So, when this corruptible, 
shall have put on, incorruption; and this mortal, shall 
have put on, immortality, then, shall be brought to pass 
the saying, that is written — " Death, is swallowed up, 
in victory." O Death ! where is thy sting ? O Grave ! 
where is thy victory? The sting of death, is sin; and 
the strength of sin, is the law. But, thanks be to God, 
who giveth us the Yictory, through our Lord Jesus 
Christ. 

Man, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time 
to live, and, is full of misery. He cometh up, and is 
cut down, like a flower : he fleeth, as it were, a shadow, 
and, never continueth, in one stay. In the midst of 
life, we are in death : of whom may we seek, for suc- 
cor, but, of thee, O Lord ! who, for our sins, art justly 

2S* 



102 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

displeased ? Yet, O Lord, God, most holy ! O Lord, 
most mighty! O holy, and most merciful Saviour! 
deliver us not, into the bitter pains, of eternal death. 



Pitt, Good Gentlefolks. 

Have pity on the poor, good gentlefolks ; 

For, they are cold and hungry. Starving pain, 
Is hard to bear ; and, oftentimes provokes 

The deed of infamy, and crime, to obtain 
The bread, that honest labor, fails to earn. 
Have pity, on the poor ; nor, coldly, turn 

The ear away, from their distressful sighs. 
Spurn not, too rudely, e'en the beggar; he 
Has fallen far; yet, let his misery 

Plead, with your hearts, and dew your tender eyes. 
Oh, pity him ! Perhaps, 'twas strong temptation, 

That drew him to this fate ; perchance, 'twas grief, 
For loss of all. Deep, is the desolation, 

Of an unfriended heart. Youchsafe him, some relief. 

Have pity, on the poor; the hidden ones, 

Who shut their sorrows, in their hearts ; the worn, 

And weary man ; the widow, and her sons, 
And, daughters, fatherless; the overborne. 

Have pity, on the hapless slave of toil ; 
The patient, gentle, fragile sewing girl, 
"Whose thin, and sunken cheek, is pale, as pearl ; 

Whose slender fingers, constantly, must moil, 
To wring, from masters, the small, weekly, dole, 
That, barely, binds the body and the soul. 






PITY, KIND GENTLEFOLKS. 103 

And ye, fine ladies, l^autiful and proud, 

Whose delicate forms, are clad, in rich array, 

Eemember those, whose sister heads are bowed, 
With toil for you, endured by night and day. 

Ye flitting moths, ye butterflies of fashion, 
Ye pinching, hard, unfeeling things of pride, 

Aristocrats of pompousness, and passion, 
Who; sternly, brush the humble' man, aside, 

Ye, who increase, upon the poor man's labor, 
Who reap the harvest, you have never sown, 
Who eat the fruit, that other men, have grown, 

The Lord, has said, " The wretched, is your neighbor/' 
Your brother too ; and, in the Father's heart, 

Who holds the world, within his love, and gives 

Its daily food, to every thing, that lives, 
Perchance, he has a large and loving part. 

Be kind and pitiful, while yet you may, 

And, sweep somewhat, of human woe, away. 

The world is dark ; and, who, for Jesus' sake 

Do good to man, are hke the city lamps ; 
Their rays, throughout surrounding darkness, break, 

And, cheer the wanderer, in the midnight damps. 
They pale, at breaking of the morn ; but, soon, 

The sun, majestic, shall arise, and pour 
A flood of radiance, from the skies' mid noon ; 

Their little lamps, are needed, then, no more. 
Absorbed and lost, in heavenly love, and glory, 

Their ravished minds, then, hear the Saviour say, 

" Ye did it, to the suffering sons of clay, 
And so, 'twas done to me." The immortal story, 

O'er the wide plains of Paradise, shall fly, 

And, crowds, descend, to welcome them, on high. 



104 exercises in elocution. 

Parable of the Prodigal Son. 

A certain man, had two sons; and the younger of 
them, said, unto his father, " Father, give me the por- 
tion of goods, that falleth to me." And, he divided, 
unto them, his living. And, not many days after, the 
younger son, gathered all together, and took his journey, 
into a far country, and, there, wasted his substanGe, with 
riotous living. And, when he had spent all, there arose, a 
mighty famine, in that land; and he began, to be in want. 
And he went, and joined himself, to a citizen of that 
country; and he sent him, into his fields, to feed swine. 
And, he would fain have filled himself, with the husks, 
that the swine did eat ; but, no man gave unto him. 

And, when he came to himself, he said, " How many 
hired servants, of my father, have bread enough, and to 
spare ; — and I, perish, with hunger ! — I will arise, and, 
go to my father, and, will say, unto him, Father, I have 
sinned, against heaven, and before thee, and, am no 
more worthy to be called thy son ; make me, as one of 
thy hired servants." 

And, he arose, and, came to his father. But, when he 
was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and, had 
compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed 
him. And the son said, unto him, "Father, I have 
sinned, against heaven, and, in thy sight, and, am no 
more worthy to be called thy son." But, the father, 
said, to his servants, " Bring forth the best robe, and 
put it on him; and, put a ring on his hand, and, 
shoes on his feet; and, bring hither the fatted calf, and 
kill it; and let us eat, and be merry: for this, my son, 
was dead, and, is alive again ; he was lost, and is found." 

Now, his elder son, was in the field; and as he came, 
and drew nigh, to the house, he heard music and 



OTHELLO'S ADDRESS TO THE SENATE. 105 

dancing. And, he called one of the servants, and, asked 
what these things meant. And he said unto him, "Thy 
brother is come; and thy father, hath killed the fatted 
calf, because he hath received him, safe and sound ." 

And, he was angry; and would not go in: therefore, 
came his father out, and entreated him. And he, an- 
swering, said to his father, " Lo, these many years have 
I served thee, neither transgressed I, at any time, thy 
commandment; and yet, thou never gavest me a kid, 
that I might make merry, with my friends : but, as soon 
as this, thy son, was come, who hath devoured thy living, 
with harlots, thou hast killed, for him, the fatted calf." 

And the father, said unto him — " Son, thou art ever 
with me; and all that I have, is thine. It was meet, 
that we should make merry, and be glad; for this, thy 
brother, was dead, and is alive again; and, was lost, and, 
is found." 



Othello's Address to the Senate. 

Most potent, grave, and reverend signors, 

My very noble, and, approved, good masters; 

That I have ta'en away, this old man's daughter, 

It is most true ; true, I have married her ; 

The very head and front, of my offending, 

Hath this extent; no more. Eude am I, in speech, 

And, little blessed, with the set phrase of peace; 

For, since these arms of mine, had seven years' pith, 

Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have used 

Their dearest action, in the tented field; 

And, little of this great world, can I speak, 

More than pertains, to feats of broil and battle; 

And, therefore, little, shall I grace my cause, 

In speaking for myself; yet, by your patience, 



106 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

I will, a round, unvarnished tale, deliver, 

Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, what charms, 

"What conjuration, and, what mighty magic, 

(For such proceeding, I am charged, withal) 

I won his daughter, with. 

Her father, loved me ; oft, invited me ; 

Still, questioned me, the story of my life, 

From year, to year ; the battles, sieges, fortunes, 

That I have past. 

I ran it through, even from my boyish days, 

To the very moment, that he bade me tell it. 

Wherein, I spoke, of most disastrous chances ; 

Of moving accidents, by flood and field ; 

Of hair-breadth' scapes, in the imminent, deadly, breach; 

Of being taken, by the insolent foe, 

And, sold to slavery; of my redemption thence; 

Of battles, bravely, hardly, fought ; of victories, 

For which, the conqueror mourned, so many, fell ! 

Sometimes, I told the story of a siege, 

Wherein I had to combat plagues and famine, 

Soldiers unpaid, fearful to fight, yet bold, 

In dangerous mutiny. 

These things to hear 
Would Desdemona, seriously incline ; 
But, still, the house affairs, would draw her, thence ; 
Which, ever, as she could, with haste, dispatch, 
She'd come again, and, with a greedy ear, 
Devour up my discourse : which, I observing, 
Took, once, a pliant hour, and, found good means, 
To draw, from her, a prayer of earnest heart, 
That I would all my pilgrimage, dilate, 
Whereof, by parcels, she had something, heard, 
But not distinctively. I did consent ; 
And, often, did beguile her, of her tears, 
When I did speak, of some distressful stroke, 






iiamlet's advice to the players. 107 

That my youth suffered. My story being done, 

She gave me, for my pains, a world of sighs, 

She swore, In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; 

'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful; 

She wished, she had not heard it ; — yet, she wished 

That heaven had made her such a man : She thanked me, 

And, bade me, if I had a friend, that loved her, 

I should but teach him, how to tell my story, 

And that, would woo her. On this hint, I spake. 

She, loved me, for the dangers I had passed ; 

And, I loved her, that she did pity them. 

— This, only, is the witchcraft, I have used. 



Hamlet's Advice to the Players. 

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to 
you; trippingly, on the tongue. But, if you mouth it, 
as many of our players do, I had as lief the town crier, 
had spoken my lines. And, do not saw the air too 
much, with your hands; but use all gently; for, in the 
very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind, 
of your passion, you must acquire, and beget a tempe- 
rance, that may give it smoothness. Oh ! it offends 
me, to the soul, to hear a robustious, perriwig pated 
fellow, tear a passion, to tatters, to very rags, to split 
the ears of the groundlings; who, for the most part, are 
capable of nothing, but inexplicable, dumb shows, and 
noise. Pray you, avoid it. 

Be not too tame, neither; but, let your own discre- 
tion, be your tutor. Suit the action, to the word, the 
word, to the action ; with this special observance, that 
you overstep not the modesty of nature ; for, any thing, 



108 EXERCISE IN ELOCUTION. 

so overdone, is from the purpose of playing; whose end 
is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show 
virtue, her own feature, scorn, her own image; and, 
the very age and body of the time, his form and press- 
ure. Now, this overdone, or, come tardy off, though 
it make the unskilful, laugh, cannot but make the judi- 
cious, grieve ; the censure, of one of which, must, in 
your allowance, overweigh a whole theatre of others. 
Oh ! there be players that I have seen play, and, heard 
others praise, and that highly, that, neither having the 
accent, of Christian, nor the gait, of Christian, pagan, 
nor man, have so strutted, and bellowed, that I have 
thought, some of Nature's journeymen, had made them, 
and not made them well, they imitated humanity, so 
abominably. 



Thirty-Fifth Chapter op Isaiah. 

The wilderness, and the solitary place, shall be glad, 
for them; and the desert, shall rejoice and blossom, as 
the rose. It shall blossom, abundantly, and, rejoice, 
even with joy and singing : the glory of Lebanon, shall 
be given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon ; 
they shall see the glory, of the Lord, and, the excel- 
lency, of our God. Strengthen ye, the weak hands, 
and, confirm the feeble knees. Say to them, that are 
of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear not: behold, your 
God, will come with vengeance, even God, with a re- 
compense ; he will come, and save you. Then the eyes 
of the blind, shall be opened, and, the ears of the deaf, 
shall be unstopped. Then shall the lame man, leap as 
an hart ; and, the tongue of the dumb, sing : for, in the 
wilderness, shall waters, break out, and, streams, in the 
desert. And, the parched ground, shall become, a pool, 



MEETING OF SATAN AND THE ANGELS. 109 

and the thirsty land, springs of waters : in the habita- 
tion of dragons, where each lay, shall be grass, with 
reeds and rushes. And an highway, shall be there, and 
a way, and, it shall be called, the way of holiness; the 
unclean, shall not pass over it; but, it shall bo for those; 
the way-faring men, though fools, shall not err, therein. 
No lion, shall be there, nor any ravenous beast, shall go 
up, thereon, it shall not be found, there : but, the re- 
deemed shall walk, there : And, the ransomed of the 
Lord, shall return, and, come to Zion, with songs and 
everlasting joy, upon their heads : they shall obtain joy 
and gladness, and sorrow and sighing, shall flee away. 



Meeting op Satan and the Angels. 

" "Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds, prescribed 
To thy transgressions, and, disturbed the charge 
Of others, who approve not, to transgress, 
By thy example, but, have power and right, 
To question thy bold entrance, on this place; 
Employed, it seems, to violate sleep, and those, 
Whose dwelling, God hath planted here, in bliss ?" 

To whom, thus Satan, with contemptuous brow. 
" Gabriel, thou hadst, in heaven, the esteem of wise, 
And, such, I held thee ; but, this question, asked, 
Puts mo in doubt. Lives there, who loves his pain ? 
Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell, 
Though thither doomed? Thou wouldst thyself no 

doubt, 
And, boldly venture to whatever place, 
Farthest from pain, where thou mightst hope, to change 
Torment with ease, and, soonest, recompense 



110 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Dole with delight; which, in this place, I sought; 
To thee, no reason, who knowest only good, 
But, evil, hast not tried; and, wilt object 
His will, who bound us ? let him surer bar 
His iron gates, if he intends our stay, 
In that dark durance : thus much, what was asked. 
The rest is true ; they found me, where they say ; 
But, that, implies not violence, or harm." 

Thus he, in scorn. The warlike angel, moved, 
Disdainfully half smiling, thus replied. 

"O loss of one in heaven, to judge of wise, 
Since Satan fell, whom, folly, overthrew ; 
And, now, returns him, from his prison ' scaped, 
Gravely in doubt, whether to hold them, wise, 
Or not, who ask what boldness, brought him hither, 
Unlicensed, from his bounds in hell, prescribed ; 
So wise, he judges it, to fly from pain, 
However, and, to escape his punishment ! 
So judge thou still, presumptuous ! till the wrath, 
Which thou incurrest by flying, meet thy flight, 
Sevenfold, and, scourge that wisdom, back to hell, 
Which taught thee, yet, no better, that no pain, 
Can equal anger infinite, provoked. 
But, wherefore thou, alone ? wherefore, with thee, 
Came not all hell, broke loose ? Is pain, to them, 
Less pain, less to be fled ? or thou, than they, 
Less hardy to endure ? Courageous chief! 
The first, in flight, from pain ! hadst thou alleged, 
To thy deserted host, this cause of flight, 
Thou surely hadst not come, sole fugitive." 

To which, the fiend, thus answered, frowning stern. 
"Not that I less endure, or shrink from pain, 
Insulting angel ! well thou knowest, I stood 
Thy fiercest, when, in battle, to thy aid, 
The blasting volleyed thunder, made all speed, 



PSALM CXXXIX. Ill 

And, seconded thy, else, not dreaded spear. 
But, still thy words, at random, as before, 
Argue thy inexperience, what behooves, 
From hard assays, and, ill successes, past, 
A faithful leader ; not to hazard all, 
Through ways of danger, by himself untried. 
I, therefore, I alone, first undertook, 
To wing the desolate abyss, and, spy 
This new created world, whereof, in hell, 
Fame is not silent, here, in hope, to find 
Better abode, and, my afflicted powers, 
To settle here, on earth, or, in mid air ; 
Though, for possession, put to try once more, 
What thou, and thy gay legions, dare against ; 
Whoso easier business, were, to serve their Lord, 
High up in heaven, with songs, to hymn his throne, 
And, practised distances, to cringe, not fight." 



Psalm cxxxix. 



O Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. Thou 
knowest my down sitting, and, mine up rising; thou 
understandest my thought, afar off. Thou compassest 
my path, and my lying down ; and, art acquainted, with 
all my ways. For, there is not a Vord, in my tongue, 
but lo, O Lord, thou knowest it, altogether. Thou hast 
beset me, behind, and before ; and laid thine hand upon 
me. Such knowledge, is too wonderful for me : it is 
high, I cannot attain unto it. Whither, shall I go, from 
thy spirit? or whither, shall I flee, from thy presence? 
If I ascend up, into heaven, thou art there : if I make 
my bed, in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the 



112 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts 
of the sea, even there, shall thy hand, lead me, and, thy 
right hand, shall hold me. If I say, Surely, the dark- 
ness, shall cover me; even the night, shall be light, 
about me. Yea, the darkness, hideth not, from thee; 
but the night, shineth as the day; the darkness, and the 
light, are both alike, to thee. 



Extract from the Task, 

(book t.) 

Acquaint thyself, with God, if thou wouldst taste 
His works. Admitted once, to his embrace, 
Thou shalt perceive, that thou wast blind before : 
Thine eye, shall be instructed, and thine heart, 
Made pure, shall relish, with divine delight, 
Till then unfelt, what hands, divine, have wrought. 
Brutes, graze the mountain top, with faces, prone, 
And eyes, intent upon the scanty herb, 
It yields them; or, recumbent on its brow, 
Euminate, heedless of the scene, outspread 
Beneath, beyond, and, stretching far away, 
From inland regions, to the distant main. 
Man views it, and, admires ; but, rests content, 
With what, he views. The landscape, has his praise, 
But, not its author. Unconcerned, who formed 
The paradise he sees, he finds it, such, 
And, suck, well pleased to find it, asks no more. 
Not so, the mind, that has been touched from Heaven. 
And, in the school of sacred wisdom, taught 
To read his wonders, in whose thought, the world, 
Fair as it is, existed, ere it was. 
Not for its own sake, merely, but for his, 
Much more, who fashioned it, he gives it praise ; 






EXTRACT FROM THE TASK. 113 

Praise that, from earth resulting, as it ought, 

To earth's acknowledged sovereign, finds, at once, 

Its only just proprietor, in Him. 

The soul, that sees him, or receives sublimed, 

New faculties, or learns, at least, to employ, 

More worthily, the powers, she owned, before ; 

Discerns, in all things, what, with stupid gaze 

Of ignorance, till then, she overlooked ; 

A ray of heavenly light, gilding all forms, 

Terrestrial, in the vast, and the minute ; 

The unambiguous footsteps, of the God, 

Who gives its lustre, to an insect's wing, 

And, wheels his throne, upon the rolling worlds. 

Much conversant with heaven, she often holds, 

With those fair ministers of light, to man, 

That fill the skies, nightly, with silent pomp, 

Sweet conference. Inquires what strains, were they, 

With which, heaven rang, when, every star, in haste 

To gratulate the new created earth, 

Sent forth a voice, and, all the sons of God, 

Shouted for joy. "Tell me, ye shining hosts, 

That navigate a sea, that knows no storms, 

Beneath a vault, unsullied with a cloud, 

If, from your elevation, whence ye view, 

Distinctly, scenes invisible to man, 

And systems, of whose birth, no tidings, yet, 

Have reached this nether world, ye spy a race, 

Favored as ours; transgressors, from the womb, 

And hasting to a grave ; yet, doomed to rise, 

And to possess a brighter heaven, than 3 r ours. 

As one, who, long detained, on foreign shores, 

Pants to return, and, when he sees, afar, 

His country's weather-bleached, and battered, rocks, 

From the green wave, emerging, darts an eye, 

Kadiant with joy, towards the happy land, 

29* 



114 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

So, I, with animated hopes, behold, 

And, many an aching wish, your beamy fires, 

That show, like beacons, in the blue abyss, 

Ordained to guide the embodied spirit, home, 

From toilsome life, to never-ending rest. 

Love kindles, as I gaze. I feel desires, 

That give assurance, of their own success ; 

And that, infused from heaven, must thither tend." 

So, reads he, nature, whom the lamp of truth, 
Illuminates. Thy lamp, mysterious word ! 
Which, whoso sees, no longer wanders, lost, 
With intellects, bemazed in endless doubt, 
But, runs the road, to wisdom. Thou hast built, 
With means, that were not, till by thee employed, 
Worlds, that had never been, hadst^thou, in strength, 
Been less, or, less benevolent, than strong. 
They are thy witnesses, who speak thy power, 
And goodness, infinite ; but, speak, in ears, 
That hear not, or, receive not, their report. 
In vain, thy creatures, testify of thee, 
Till thou, proclaim thyself. Theirs, is, indeed, 
A teaching voice ; butj-'tis the praise of thine, 
That, whom it teaches, it makes, prompt, to learn ; 
And, with the boon, gives talents, for its use. 
Till thou art heard, imaginations vain, 
Possess the heart ; and fables, false as hell, 
Yet deemed oracular, lure down, to death, 
The uninformed, and heedless, souls of men. 
We give, to chance, blind chance, ourselves as blind, 
The glory of thy work, which, yet, appears, 
Perfect, and, unimpeachable of blame ; 
Challenging human scrutiny, and, proved, 
Then, skilful most, when most severely judged. 
But chance, is not ; or, is not, where thou reign est : 
Thy providence, forbids that fickle power, 



EXTRACT FROM THE TASK. 115 

(If, power, sho be, that works but, to confound) 

To mix her wild vagaries, with thy laws. 

Yet, thus we dote; refusing, while we can, 

Instruction, and, inventing, to ourselves, 

Gods, such, as guilt makes welcome ; gods, that sleep, 

Or, disregard our follies ; or, that sit, 

Amused spectators, of this bustling stage. 

Thee, wo reject ; unable, to abide 

Thy purity, till, pure, as thou art pure, 

Made such, by thee, we love thee, for that cause, 

For which, we shunned and hated thee, before. 

Then, are we free. Then, liberty, like day, 

Breaks on the soul, and, by a flash from heaven, 

Fires all the faculties, with glorious joy. 

A voice, is heard, that mortal ears, hear not, 

Till thou, hast touched them j 'tis the voice of song ; 

A loud hosanna, sent from all thy works ; 

Which, he that hears it, with a shout repeats, 

And, adds his rapture, to the general praise. 

In that blest moment, nature, throwing wide 

Her veil opaque, discloses, with a smile, 

The author of her beauties, who, retired 

Behind her own creation, works, unseen, 

By the impure, and hears his power, denied. 

Thou art the source, and centre, of all minds ; 

Their only point of rest, eternal Word ! 

From thee, departing, they are lost, and rove, 

At random, without honor, hope, or peace. 

From thee, is all, that soothes the life of man 

His high endeavor, and, his glad success, 

His strength, to suffer, and, his will, to serve. 

But, oh thou bounteous giver, of all good, 

Thou art, of all thy gifts, thyself, the crown ! 

Give what thou canst, without thee, we are poor; 

And, with thee, rich, take what thou wilt, away. 



116 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



The Gascon Peasant and the Flies. 

At Neuchatel, in France, where, they prepare 

Cheeses, that set us, longing to be mites, 
There dwelt, a farmer's wife, famed for her rare 

Skill, in these, small, quadrangular, delights. 
Where they were made, they were sold, for the im- 
mense 

Price, of three sous apiece ; 

But, as salt water, made their charms, increase, 
In England, the fixed rate, was eighteen pence. 

This damsel had, to keep her, in her farm, 

To milk her cows, and, feed her hogs, 
A Gascon peasant, with a sturdy arm, 

For digging, or, for carrying logs : 
But, in his noddle, weak as any baby; 
In fact, a gaby : 

And, such a glutton, when you came to feed him, 
That Wantley's dragon, who " ate barns and churches, 
As if they were geese and turkeys," 

(Vide the ballad) scarcely, could exceed him. 

One morn, she had prepared a monstrous bowl 

Of cream, like nectar ! 
And wouldn't go to church, (good careful soul) 

Till, she had left it, safe, with a protector : 
So, she gave strict injunctions, to the Gascon, 
To watch it, while his mistress, was to mass gone. 
Watch it, he did ; he never took his eyes off, 

But, licked his upper, then his under, lip, 
And, doubled up his fist, to drive the flies off; 

Begrudging them, the smallest sip; 



THE GASCON PEASANT AND THE PLIES. 117 

Which, if they got, 
Like my Lord Salisbury, he heaved a sigh, 
And cried, " Oh happy, happy fly ! 

How I do envy you, your lot." 

Each moment, did his appetite, grow stronger ; 

His bowels, yearned ; 
At length, he could not bear it, any longer, 

But, on all sides, his looks, he turned, 
Apd, finding that the coast was clear, he quaffed 

The whole, up, at a draught. 

Scudding from church, the farmer's wife, 

Flew to the dairy ; 
But, stood aghast, and could not, for her life, 

One sentence mutter, 
Until, she summoned breath enough, to utter 

"Holy St. Mary" 
And, shortly, with a face of scarlet, 
The vixen (for she was a vixen) flew, 

Upon the varlet; 
Asking the when, and where, and how, and who, 
Had gulped her cream, nor, left an atom? 
To which, he made not separate replies, 
But, with a look, of excellent digestion, 
One answer made, to every question ; 

" The flies." 

" The flies, you rogue ! — the flies, you guttling dog ! 

Behold, your whiskers, still, are covered thickly ; 
Thief! Liar ! Villain ! Gormandizer! Hog! 

I'll make you tell another story quickly." 
So, out she bounced, and brought, with loud alarms, 

Two stout Gens d'Armes, 
Who bore him, to the Judge : — a little prig, 



118 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

With angry bottle nose, 

Like a red cabbage-rose, 
While lots of white ones, flourished on his wig. 
Looking, at once, both stern and wise, 

He, turned to the delinquent, 
And 'gan to question him, and catechise, 

As to which way, the drink went. 
Still, the same dogged answers, rise, 
" The flies, my lord, — the flies, the flies." 

" Phsa," quoth the Judge, half peevish, and half pom- 
pous, 
1 Why, you're non-compos ; 
You should have watched the bowl, as she desired, 

And killed the flies, you stupid clown." 
" What ! is it lawful then," the dolt inquired, 
" To kill the flies, in this here town ?" 

" The man's an ass ! — What question's this ? 
Lawful ! you booby, — to be sure it is : 
You've my authority, where'er you meet 'em, 
To kill the rogues, and, if you like, to eat 'em !" 

" Zooks," cried the rustic, " I'm right glad, to hear it. 

Constable, catch that thief ! may I go hang, 
If yonder blue bottle, (I know his face) 

Is not the very leader, of the gang, 
That stole the cream ; let me come, near it." 
This said, he darted from his place, 
And, aiming one of his sledge-hammer blows, 
At a large fly, upon the Judge's nose, 

The luckless blue bottle, he smashed; 
And, gratified a double grudge; 
For, the same catapult, completely smashed . 
The bottle nose, belonging to the Judge ! 



FOURTH CHAPTER OF ST. JOHN. 119 



Fourth Chapter of St. John. 

When, therefore, the Lord knew, how the Pharisees, 
had heard, that Jesus, made and baptised more disciples, 
than John, though Jesus, himself, baptised not, but, his 
disciples, he left Judea, and, departed, again, into Galilee. 
And, he must needs go, through Samaria. Then, 
cometh he, to a city of Samaria, which is called, Sychar; 
near to the parcel of ground, that Jacob gave, to his 
son Joseph. Now, Jacob's well, was there. Jesus, there- 
fore, being wearied with his journey, sat, thus, on the 
well: and, it was, about the sixth hour. There cometh, 
a woman of Samaria, to draw water; Jesus saith, unto 
her, Give me to drink; for, his disciples, were gone 
away, into the city, to buy meat. Then, saith the 
woman of Samaria, unto him, How is it, that thou, 
being a Jew, askest drink of me, who am a woman of 
Samaria? for, the Jews, have no dealings, with the 
Samaritans. Jesus, answered and said, unto her, If thou 
knewest the gift of God, and who it is, that saith unto 
thee, Give me to drink; thou, wouldest have asked him, 
and he, would have given thee, living water. The 
woman saith, unto him, Sir, thou hast nothing, to draw 
with, and the well, is deep : from whence, then, hast 
thou, that living water? Art thou, greater, than our 
father Jacob, who gave us, the well, and drank thereof, 
himself, and his children, and his cattle? Jesus, an- 
swered, and said unto her, Whosoever drinketh, of this 
water, shall thirst, again : but, whosoever drinketh, of 
the water, that I shall give him, shall never thirst; but, 
the water, that I shall give him, shall be, in him, a well 
of water, springing up, into everlasting life. The 
woman, saith unto him, Sir, give me this water, that I 
thirst not, neither, come hither to draw. Jesus, saith 



120 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

unto her, Go, call thy husband, and, come hither. Th 
woman, answered, and said, I have no husband. Jesus, 
said unto her, Thou hast well said, I have no husband 
for, thou hast had, five husbands; and he, whom thou 
now hast, is not, thy husband; in that, saidst thou truly. 
The woman, saith unto him, Sir, I perceive, that thou 
art a prophet. Our fathers, worshipped, in this moun- 
tain; and, ye say, that in Jerusalem, is the place, where 
men ought, to worship. Jesus, saith unto her, Woman, 
believe me, the hour cometh, when, ye shall, neither in 
this mountain, nor yet, in Jerusalem, worship the Father. 
Ye, worship, ye know not what : we, know, what we 
worship; for, salvation is, of the Jews. But, the hour 
cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers, shall 
worship the Father, in spirit, and, in truth: for, the 
Father, seeketh such, to worship him. God, is a Spirit : 
and they, that worship him, must worship him, in spirit, 
and, in truth. The woman, saith unto him, I know 
that Messias, cometh, which is called, Christ: when he, 
is come, he will tell us, all things. Jesus, saith unto 
her, I, that speak unto thee, am he. And, upon this, 
came his disciples, and, marvelled, that he talked, with 
the woman: Yet, no man said, What seekest thou? or, 
Why talkest thou with her ? The woman, then, left her 
water pot, and went her way, into the city; and, saith 
to the men, Come, see a man, that told me all things, 
that ever I did: Is not this, the Christ? Then they, 
went out of the city, and came unto him. In the mean 
while, his disciples, prayed him, saying, Master, eat; 
but, he said unto them, I have meat, to eat, that ye, 
know not of. 

Therefore, said the disciples, one to another, Hath any 
man, brought him aught, to eat ? Jesus, saith unto 
them, My meat is, to do the will of him, that sent me, 
and, to finish his work. Say not ye, there are yet four 



CHARACTER OF MR. PITT, EARL OF CHATHAM. 121 

months, and then, cometh the harvest? behold, I say 
unto you, lift up your eyes, and look on the fields; for, 
they are white, already, to harvest. And he, that 
reapeth, receive th wages, and, gathereth fruit, unto life 
eternal; that, both he that soweth, and, he that reapeth, 
may rejoice, together. And, herein, is that saying true, 
One, soweth, and, another, reapeth. I sent you, to reap 
that, whereon, ye bestowed no labor : other men, 
labored, and ye, are entered, into their labors. 

And, many of the Samaritans, of that city, believed on 
him, for the saying, of the woman, which testified, He told 
me, all that ever I did. So, when the Samaritans, were 
come unto him, they besought him, that he would tarry, 
with them : and, he abode there, two days. And, many 
more, believed on him, because of his own words; and 
said, unto the woman, Now, we believe, not, because of 
thy saying; for, we have heard him, ourselves, and 
know, that this, is indeed the Christ, the Saviour, of the 
world. 



Character of Mr. Pitt, Earl of Chatham. 

The secretary, stood, alone. Modern degeneracy, had 
not reached him. Original, and, unaccommodating, the 
features of his character, had the hardihood, of anti- 
quity. His august mind, overawed majesty; and, one 
of his sovereigns, thought royalty, so impaired, in his 
presence, that, he conspired to remove him, in order, to 
be relieved, from his superiority. No state chicanery, 
no narrow system, of vicious politics, no idle contest, for 
ministerial victories, sunk him, to the vulgar level, of the 
great; but, overbearing, persuasive, and impracticable, 

30 



122 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

his object, was England, his ambition, was fame. With- 
out dividing, he destroyed, party; without corrupting, 
he made a venal age, unanimous. France, sunk beneath 
him. With one hand, he smote the house of Bourbon, 
and wielded, in the other, the democracy of England. 
The sight, of his mind, was infinite; and, his schemes, 
were to affect, not England, not the present age, but 
Europe, and posterity. Wonderful, were the means, 
by which these schemes, were accomplished; always 
seasonable, always adequate, the suggestions of an un- 
derstanding, animated, by ardor, and enlightened, by 
prophecy. The ordinary feelings, which make life, 
amiable, and indolent, were unknown to him. No do- 
mestic difficulties, no domestic weakness, reached him; 
but, aloof, from the sordid occurrences of life, and, un- 
sullied, by its intercourse, he came, occasionally, into 
our system, to counsel, and, to decide. A character, so 
exalted, so strenuous, so various, so authoritative, as- 
tonished a corrupt age, and, the treasury, trembled, at 
the name of Pitt, through all her classes, of venality. 
Corruption, imagined, indeed, that she had found de- 
fects, in this statesman; and, talked, much, of the in- 
consistency of his glory; and, much, of the ruin of his 
victories; but, the history of his country, and the cala- 
mities of the enemy, answered, and refuted, her. 

JSTor, were his political abilities, his only talents; his 
eloquence, was an era, in the senate, peculiar and 
spontaneous; familiarly, expressing gigantic sentiments, 
and, instinctive wisdom; not, like the torrent, of Demos- 
thenes, or, the splendid conflagration, of Tully; it re- 
sembled, sometimes, the thunder; and, sometimes, the 
music of the spheres. Like Murray, he did not conduct 
the understanding, through the painful subtilty of argu- 
mentation; nor, was he like Townsend, forever, on the 
rack of exertion ; but, rather, lightened upon the sub- 



FROM THE RUSSIAN ANTHOLOGY. 128 

ject, and, reached the point, by the flashings of the 
mind; which, like those of his eye, were felt, but could 
not be followed. Upon the whole, there was, in this 
man, something that could create, subvert, or reform; 
an understanding, a spirit, and an eloquence, to summon 
mankind to society, or, to break the bonds of slavery, 
asunder, and to rule the wilderness, of free minds, with 
unbounded authority; something, that could establish, 
or overwhelm, empire, and, strike a blow, in the world, 
that should resound, through the universe. 



From the Russian Anthology. 

O thou eternal One ! whose presence bright, 

All space, doth occupy, all motion guide ; 

Unchanged, through time's all-devastating flight; 

Thou only God ! There is no God beside ! 

Being above all beings ! Mighty One ! 

"Whom none can comprehend, and none explore ; 

"Who filFst existence, with thyself alone : 

Embracing all, supporting, ruling o'er ; 

Being whom we call, God, and, know no more ! 

In its sublime research, philosophy 

May measure out the ocean-deep, — may count 

The sands, or the sun's rays ; but, God ! for thee, 

There is no weight, nor measure : none, can mount 

Up, to thy mysteries. Reason's brightest spark, 

Though kindled by thy light, in vain, would try, 

To trace thy counsels, infinite, and dark ; 

And thought, is lost ere thought, can soar so high ; 

E'en like past moments, in eternity. 



124 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Thou, from primeval nothingness, didst call 

First chaos, then existence — Lord, on thee 

Eternity, had its foundation : — all 

Sprung forth from thee : — of light, joy, harmony, 

Sole origin : all life, all heauty thine. 

Thy word created all, and doth create ) 

Thy splendor, fills all space, with rays divine. 

Thou art, and wert, and shalt be, Glorious, Great, 

Life-giving, life-sustaining, Potentate ! 

Thy chains, the unmeasured universe, surround : 
Upheld, by thee, by thee, inspired with breath : 
Thou, the beginning, with the end, hast bound, 
And, beautifully, mingled life, and death ! 
As sparks, mount upwards, from the fiery blaze, 
So, suns, are born; so, worlds, spring forth from thee 
And, as the spangles, in the sunny rays, 
Shine, round the silver snow, the pageantry, 
Of heaven's bright army, glitters in thy praise. 

A million torches, lighted by thy hand, 
Wander, unwearied, through the blue abyss : 
They own thy power, accomplish, thy command ; 
All gay, with life, all eloquent, with bliss. 
"What, shall we call them? Piles of crystal light, 
A glorious company, of golden streams, 
Lamps, of celestial ether, burning bright — 
Suns, lighting systems, with their joyous beams. 
But, thou, to these, art as the noon, to night. 

Yes, as a drop of water, in the sea, 

All this magnificence, in thee, is lost : 

"WTiat are ten thousand worlds, compared to thee ? 

And, what am I, then ? Heaven's unnumbered host, 

Though multiplied by myriads, and, arrayed, 






FROM THE RUSSIAN ANTHOLOGY. 125 

In all the glory of sublimest thought, 
Is but an atom, in the balance, weighed 
Against thy greatness — is a cipher, brought, 
Against infinity ! What am I then ? Nought ! 

Nought ! But, the effluence, of thy light divine, 
Pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom, too ; 
Yes ; in my spirit, doth thy spirit, shine, 
As shines the sunbeam, in a drop of dew. 
Nought ! but, I live, and, on hope's pinions, fly 
Eager, towards thy presence ; for, in thee, 
I live, and breathe, and dwell ; aspiring high, 
E'en to the throne, of thy divinity. 
I, am, O God ! and, surely, thou, must be ! 

Thou art ; directing, guiding all, thou art ! 

Direct my understanding, then, to thee ; 

Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart : 

Though but an atom midst immensity, 

Still, I am something, fashioned by thy hand! 

I hold a middle rank, 'twixt heaven, and earth; 

On the last verge, of mortal being, stand, 

Close to the realms, where angels, have their birth; 

Just on the boundaries, of the spirit-land ! 

The chain of being is complete in me, — 

In me, is matter's last gradation, lost ; 

And the next step, is spirit — Deity ! 

I can command the lightning, and am dust ; 

A monarch, and a slave ; a worm, a God ! 

Whence came I here ? and how so marvellously 

Constructed, and conceived ? unknown. This clod, 

Lives, surely, through some higher energy; 

For, from itself alone, it could not be ! 

30* 



126 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Creator, yes ! thy wisdom, and thy word 
Created me ! Thou source of life, and good . 
Thou spirit of my spirit, and my Lord ! 
Thy light, thy love, in their bright plenitude, 
Filled me, with an immortal soul, to spring 
O'er the abyss of death, and bade it, wear 
The garments, of eternal day, and wing 
Its heavenly flight, b v eyond this little sphere ; 
E'en to its source, — to thee, — its Author there. 

O thoughts ineffable I O visions blest ! 
Though worthless, our conceptions all, of thee, 
Yet, shall thy shadowed image, fill our breast, 
And, waft its homage, to thy Deity. 
Crod, thus, alone, my lowly thoughts, can soar; 
Thus, seek thy presence, Being, wise, and good ! 
Midst thy vast works, admire, obey, adore ; 
And, when the tongue, is eloquent no more, 
The soul, shall speak, in tears of gratitude. 



Elegy written in a Country Churchyard. 

The curfew tolls; the knell, of parting day; 

The lowing herd, winds, slowly, o'er the lea; 
The ploughman, homeward, plods his weary way, 

And, leaves the world, to darkness, and to me. 

Now, fades the glimmering landscape, on the sight, 
And, all the air, a solemn stillness, holds,- 

Save, where the beetle, wheels his droning flight, 
And, drowsy tinklings, lull the distant folds : 



ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. 127 

Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, 
The moping owl, does, to the moon, complain 

Of such, as,. wandering, near her secret bower, 
Molest her ancient, solitary, reign. 

Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 
Where, heaves the turf, in many a mouldering heap, 

Each, in his narrow cell, for ever laid, 
The rude forefathers of the hamlet, sleep. 

The breezy call, of incense-breathing morn, 

The swallow, twittering from the straw-built shed, 

The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
No more, shall rouse them, from their lowly bed. 

For them, no more the blazing hearth, shall burn, 
Or, busy housewife, ply her evening care ; 

No children, run, to lisp their sire's return, 
Or, climb his knees, the envied kiss, to share. 

Oft, did the harvest, to their sickle, yield ; 

Their furrow, oft, the stubborn glebe, has broke ; 
How jocund, did they drive their team, afield ! 

How bowed the woods, beneath their sturdy stroke ! 

Let not ambition, mock their useful toil, 
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 

Nor grandeur, hear, with a disdainful smile, 
The short, and simple, annals of the poor. 

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, ' 

Await, alike, the inevitable hour; — 

The paths of glory, lead, but, to the grave. 



128 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Nor you, ye proud, impute, to these, the fault, 
If memory, o'er their tomb, no trophies raise, 

Where, through the long-drawn aisle, an4 fretted vault, 
The pealing anthem, swells the note of praise. 

Can storied urn, or animated bust, 
Eaek to its mansion, call the fleeting breath ? 

Can honor's voice, provoke the silent dust ? 
Or, flattery, soothe the dull, cold, ear of death ? 

Perhaps, in this neglected spot, is laid, 

Some heart, once pregnant, with celestial fire ; 

Hands, that the rod of empire, might have swayed, 
Or, waked, to ecstasy, the living lyre. 

But, knowledge, to their eyes, her ample page, 
Eich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll ; 

Chill penury, repressed their noble rage, 
And, froze the genial current, of the soul. 

Full many a gem, of purest ray serene, 

The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean, bear; 

Full many a flower, is born to blush unseen, 
And, waste its sweetness, on the desert air. 

Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, 
The little tyrant of his fields, withstood, 

Some mute, inglorious Milton, here, may rest, 
Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. 

The applause, of listening senates, to command, 
The threats, of pain, and ruin, to despise, 

To scatter plenty, o'er a smiling land, 

And, read their history, in a nation's eyes, 



ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD. 129 

Their lot forbade j nor, circumscribed, alone, 

Their growing virtues ; but, their crimes, confined ; 

Forbade, to wade, through slaughter, to a throne ; 
And, shut the gates of mercy, on mankind ; 

The struggling pangs, of conscious truth, to hide ; 
• To quench the blushes, of ingenuous shame ; 
Or, heap the shrine, of luxury, and pride, 
With incense, kindled at the muse's flame. 

Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, 
Their sober wishes, never learned to stray ; 

Along the cool, sequestered, vale of life, 
They kept the noiseless tenor, of their way. 

Yet, e'en these bones, from insult, to protect, 
Some frail memorial, still, erected nigh, 

With uncouth rhymes, and shapeless sculpture, decked, 
Implores the passing tribute, of a sigh. 

Their names, their years, spelled by the unlettered muse, 

The place of fame, and elegy, supply ; 
And, many a holy text, around, she strews, 

That teach the rustic moralist, to die. 

For who, to dumb forgetfulness, a prey, 
This pleasing, anxious, being, e'er resigned, 

Left the warm precincts, of the cheerful day, 
Nor, cast one, longing, lingering, look, behind ? 

On some, fond, breast, the parting soul, relies ; 

Some, pious, drops, the closing eye, requires ; 
E'en from the tomb, the voice of nature, cries, 

E'en in our ashes, live their wonted fires. 



130 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

For thee, who, mindful, of the unhonored dead, 
Dost, in these lines, their artless tale, relate, 

If, chance, by lonely contemplation, led, 
Some kindred spirit, shall inquire thy fate, 

Haply, some hoary-headed swain, may say, 
" Oft, have we seen him, at the peep of dawn, 

Brushing, with hasty step, the dews away, 
To meet the sun, upon the upland lawn. 

" There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech, 
That wreathes its old, fantastic, roots, so high, 

His listless length, at noontide, would he stretch, 
And, pore upon the brook, that bubbles by. 

" Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in scorn, 
Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove ; 

Now, drooping, woful, wan, like one forlorn, 

Or, crazed with care, or, crossed, in hopeless love. 

" One morn, I missed him, on the accustomed hill, 
Along the heath, and, near his favorite tree ; 

Another, came, nor yet, beside the rill, 
Nor, up the lawn, nor, at the wood, was he. 

" The next, with dirges due, in sad array, 
Slow, through the churchyard path, we saw him 
borne ; 

Approach, and read, (for thou canst read) the lay, 
Graved, on the stone, beneath yon aged thorn." 

THE EPITAPH. 

Here, rests his head, upon the lap of earth, 
A youth, to Fortune, and to Fame, unknown ; 



MEETING OF SATAN, SIN, AND DEATH. 131 

Fair Science, frowned not, on his humblo birth, 
And, Melancholy, marked him, for her own. 

Large, was his bounty, and, his soul, sincere ; 

Heaven, did a recompense, as largely, send ; 
He gave, to Misery, all he had, a tear ; 

He gained, from Heaven, ('twas all he wished) a 
friend. 

No farther, seek, his merits to disclose, 

Or, draw his frailties, from their dread abode , 

(There, they, alike, in trembling hope, repose) 
The bosom, of his Father, and, his God. 



Meeting of Satan, Sin, and Death. 

Meanwhile, the adversary, of God and man, 
Satan, with thoughts inflamed, of highest design, 
Puts on swift wings; and, towards the gates of Hell, 
Explores his solitary flight : sometimes, 
He scours the right hand coast, sometimes, the left; 
Now, shaves, with level wing, the deep ; then, soars 
Up, to the fiery concave, towering high. 

As, when, far off, at sea, a fleet, descried, 

Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds, 

Close sailing, from Bengala, or, the isles 

Of Ternate and Tidore, whence, merchants, bring 

Their spicy drugs, they, on the trading flood, 

Through the wide Ethiopian, to the Cape, 

Ply, stemming, nightly, towards the pole, so, seemed, 

Far off, the flying fiend. 



132 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

At last, appear 
Hell bounds, high reaching, to the horrid roof, 
And, thrice three fold, the gates : three folds, were brs 
Three, iron, three, of adamantine rock, 
Impenetrable, impaled, with circling fire, 
Yet, unconsumed. Before the gates, there sat, 
On either side, a formidable shape ; 
The one, seemed woman, to the waist, and fair; 
But, ended, foul, in many a scaly fold, 
Yoluminous, and vast, a serpent, armed, 
"With mortal sting ; about her middle, round, 
A cry of hell-hounds, never ceasing, barked, 
"With wide Cerberean mouths, full loud, and, rung 
A hideous peal ! 

Far less, abhorred, than these, 
Vexed Scylla, bathing, in the sea, that parts 
Calabria, from the hoarse, Trinacrian, shore ; 
Nor, uglier, follow the night hag, when, called 
In secret, riding through the air, she comes, 
Lured with the smell, of infant blood, to dance, 
"With Lapland witches, while, the laboring moon 
Eclipses, at their charms. 

The other shape, 
If, shape, it might be called, that shape, had none, 
Distinguishable, in member, joint, or limb ; 
Or substance, might be called, that shadow, seemed j 
(For, each, seemed, either) black, it stood, as night, 
Fierce, as ten furies, terrible, as Hell, 
And, shook a dreadful dart; what seemed, his head, 
The likeness of a kingly crown, had on. 

Satan, was, now, at hand ; and, from his seat, 
The monster, moving, onward came as fast, 



MISTING OF SATAN, SIN, AND DEATH. 133 

With horrid .strides; Hell trembled, as he strode. 
The undaunted fiend, what this might be, admired; 
Admired, not feared : God, and his Son, except, 
Created thing, naught valued he, nor shunned ; 
And, with disdainful look, thus, first, began : 

"Whence, and what, art thou, execrable shape ! 
That darest, though grim and terrible, advance 
Thy miscreated front, athwart my way, 
To yonder gates ? through them, I mean to pass, 
That, be assured, without leave, asked of thee. 
Ketire, or, taste thy folly ; and learn, by proof, 
Hell-born ! not to contend, with spirits of Heaven V* 

To whom, the goblin, full of wrath, replied, 

"Art thou, that, traitor, angel? art thou he, 

Who, first, broke peace, in heaven, and faith, till then 

Unbroken, and, in proud rebellious arms, 

Drew, after him, the third part, of Heaven's sons, 

Conjured against the Highest ? for which, both thou, 

And they, outcast from God, are, here, condemn' d, 

To waste eternal days in woe and pain. 

And, reckonest thou, thyself, with spirits of Heaven, 
Hell-doomed ! and, breath est defiance, here, and, scorn, 
Where I, reign, king ? and, to enrage thee, more, 
Thy king, and lord. Back, to thy punishment, 
False fugitive ! and, to thy speed, add wings, 
Lest, with a whip of scorpions, I pursue 
Thy lingering, or, with one stroke of this dart, 
Strange horror, seize thee, and pangs, unfelt, before " 

So, spake, the grisly terror, and, in shape, 

So speaking, and, so threatening, grew, tenfold, 

More, dreadful, and deform. On the other side, 

31 



134 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Incensed with indignation, Satan stood, 
TJnterrified, and, like a comet, burned, 
That fires, the length, of Ophiucus, huge, 
In the arctic sky, and, from his horrid hair, 
Shakes pestilence and war. 

Each, at the head, 
Levelled his deadly aim; their fatal hands, 
No second stroke, intend ; and, such a frown, 
Each, cast, at the other, as, when two, black, clouds, 
With heaven's artillery fraught, come, rattling on, 
Over the Caspian, then, stand, front to front, 
Hovering a space, till winds, the signal, blow, 
To join their dark encounter, in mid air : 

So, frowned, the mighty combatants, that hell, 

Grew darker, at their frown ; so, matched, they stood ; 

For, never, but once more, was either, like 

To meet, so great, a foe. And, now, great deeds, 

Had been achieved, whereof all Hell, had rung, 

Had not the snaky sorceress, that sat, 

Fast by Hell-gate, and, kept the fatal key, 

Eisen, and, with hideous outcry, rushed between. 



Industry necessary to the Attainment of 
Eloquence. 

The history of the world, is full of testimony, to prove, 
how much depends, upon industry; not an eminent 
orator, has lived, but is an example, of it. Yet, in con- 
tradiction to all this, the almost universal feeling, ap- 
pears to be, that industry, can effect nothing ; that emi- 
nence, is the result of accident; and, that every one, 



THE ATTAINMENT OP ELOQUENCE. 135 

must be content, to remain just, what, he may happen, 
to be. Thus, multitudes, who come forward, as teachers 
and guides, suffer themselves, to be satisfied, with the 
most indifferent attainments, and a miserable mediocrity; 
without, so much, as inquiring, how they may rise 
higher, much less, making any attempt, to rise. 

For any other art, they would have served, an ap- 
prenticeship; and, would be ashamed, to practise, it in 
public, before, they had learned it. If any one, would 
sing, he attends a master, and, is drilled, in the very 
elementary principles; and, only, after the most labo- 
rious process, dares, to exercise his voice, in public. This, 
he does, though he has, scarce, any thing, to learn but 
the mechanical execution, of what lies, in sensible forms, 
before the eye. But, the extempore speaker, who is to 
invent, as well as to utter, to carry on, an operation of 
the mind, as well, as to produce sound, enters, upon the 
work, without preparatory discipline; and, then, won- 
ders, that he fails ! 

If he were learning, to play, on the flute, for public 
exhibition, what hours, and days, would he spend, in 
giving facility, to his fingers, and, attaining the power, 
of the sweetest, and most expressive, execution ! If he 
were devoting himself, to the organ, what months, and . 
years, would he labor, that, he might know its com- 
pass, be master, of its keys, and, be able, to draw out, 
at will, all its various combinations, of harmonious 
sound, and, its full richness and delicacy, of expression ! 
And yet, he will fancy, that the grandest, the most 
various, and, most expressive, of all instruments, which, 
the infinite Creator, has fashioned, by the union, of an 
intellectual soul, with the powers of speech, may be 
played upon, without study, or practice; he comes to it, 
a mere uninstructed tyro, and, thinks to manage all its 
stops, and, command the whole compass, of its varied, 



136 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

and comprehensive, power ! He finds himself, a bungler, 
in the attempt; is mortified, at his failure; and, settles 
it, in his mind, for ever, that the attempt, is vain. 

Success, in every art, whatever may be, the natural 
talent, is, always, the reward of industry and pains. 
But, the instances are many, of men, of the finest 
natural genius, whose beginning, has promised much, 
but, who have degenerated wretchedly, as they ad- 
vanced, because, they trusted to their gifts, and, made 
no efforts, to improve. That, there have never been, 
other men, of equal endowments, with Demosthenes, 
and Cicero, none, would venture to suppose; but, who 
have so devoted themselves, to their art, or, become 
equal, in excellence? If those great men, had been 
content, like others, to continue, as they began, and, 
had, never, made their persevering efforts, for improve- 
ment, what would their countries, have benefited from 
their genius, or, the world, have known of their fame? 
They would have been lost, in the undistinguished 
crowd, that sunk to oblivion, around them. 



LOCHINVAR. 



O, young Lochinvar, is come out of the west; 
Through all the wide border, his steed, was the best; 
And, save his good broadsword, he weapon had none ; 
He rode, all unarmed, and he rode, all alone. 
So faithful, in love, and, so dauntless, in war, 
There, never, was knight, like the young Lochinvar. 

He staid not, for brake, and he stopped not, for stone ; 
He swam the Eske river, where, ford, there was none ; 



LOCHINVAR. 137 

But, ere ho alighted, at Netherby gate, 
The bride, had consented, the gallant, came late : 
For, a laggard in love, and, a dastard in war, 
Was to wed the fair Ellen, of brave Lochinvar. 

So, boldly he entered the Netherby hall, 
Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all: 
Then, spoke the bride's father, his hand, on his sword; 
(For the poor craven bridegroom, said never a word,) 
" O come ye, in peace, here, or, come ye, in war, 
Or, to dance, at our bridal, young lord Lochinvar?" 

"I, long, wooed your daughter, my suit, you denied; 
Love, swells, like the Solway, but, ebbs, like its tide; 
And, now, am I come, with this lost love of mine, 
To lead, but one measure, drink, one cup of wine. 
There are maidens, in Scotland, more lovely, by far, I 
That would, gladly, be bride, to the young Lochinvar." 

The bride, kissed the goblet; the knight, took it up; 
He quaffed off, the wine, and, he threw down, the cup. 
She, looked down, to blush, and, she looked up, to sigh, 
With a smile, on her lips, and a tear, in her eye. 
He, took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, 
" Now, tread we a measure !" said, young Lochinvar. 

So stately, his form, and, so lovely, her face, 
That, never a hall, such a galliard, did grace : 
While her mother, did fret, and, her father, did fume, 
And, the bridegroom, stood, dangling his bonnet and 

plume ; 
And, the bride-maidens, whispered, "'Twere better, by 

far, 
To have matched our fair cousin, with young Lochinvar. " 

31* 



138 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

One touch, to her hand, and, one word, in her ear, 
"When, they reached the hall-door, and, the charger, stood 

near ; 
So, light, to the croup, the fair lady, he swung, 
So, light, to the saddle, before her, he sprung ! 
"She is won! we are gone, over hank, bush and scaur; 
They'll have fleet steeds, that follow," quoth, young 

Lochinvar. 

There was mounting, 'mong Graemes, of the Netherby 

clan; 
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode, and they 

ran: 
There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lee; 
But, the lost bride of jSTetherby, ne'er, did they see. 
So daring, in love, and, so dauntless, in war, 
^Have ye e'er heard of gallant, like young Lochinvar ! 



The Mariner's Dream. 

In slumbers, of midnight, the sailor-boy, lay ; 

His hammock, swung loose, at the sport, of the wind; 
But, watch-worn, and weary, his cares, flew away, 

And, visions of happiness, danced, o'er his mind. 

He dreamed, of his home, of his dear, native, bowers, 
And pleasures, that waited, on life's merry morn; 

While Memory, stood, sidewise, half covered with flower3, 
And, restored every .rose, but, secreted its thorn. 

Then Fancy, her magical pinions, spread, wide, 
And, bade the young dreamer, in ecstasy rise; 



THE MARINER'S DREAM. 139 

Now, far, far, behind him, the green waters, glide, 
And, the cot, of his forefathers, blesses his eyes. 

The jessamine, clambers, in flower, o'er the thatch; 

And, the swallow, sings, sweet, from her nest, in the 
wall; 
All trembling, with transport, he raises the latch ; 

And, the voices, of loved ones, reply to his call. 

A father, bends o'er him, with looks of delight ; 

His cheek, is impearled, with a mother's warm, tear; 
And, the lips, of the boy, in a love-kiss, unite 

With the lips, of the maid, whom his bosom, holds 
dear. 

The heart, of the sleeper, beats high, in his breast ; 

Joy, quickens his pulse; all hardships, seem o'er; 
And, a murmur, of happiness, steals, through his rest, 

"Oh God, thou hast blessed me; I ask, for no more." 

Ah ! what is that flame, which now bursts, on his eye ? 

Ah ! what is that sound, which now larums his ear? 
'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting hell, on the sky! 

'Tis the crashing, of thunders, the groan, of the sphere ! 

He springs, from his hammock ; he flies, to the deck ; 

Amazement, confronts him, with images dire ; 
Wild, winds, and, mad, waves, drive the vessel, a wreck; 

The masts, fly in splinters; the shrouds, are on fire ! 

Like mountains, the billows, tremendously, swell 
In vain, the lost wretch, calls on Mary, to save ; 

Unseen hands, of spirits, are ringing his knell ; 

And, the death-angel, flaps his broad wing, o'er the 
wave ! 



140 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

O sailor-boy ! woe, to thy dream of delight ! 

In darkness, dissolves the gay frost-work, of bliss. 
Where, now, is the picture, that Fancy touched bright ; 

Thy parents' fond pressure, and, love's honeyed kiss ? 

O sailor-boy ! sailor-boy ! never, again, 

Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes, repay ; 

Unblessed, and, unhonored, down, deep, in the main, 
Full many a score fathom, thy frame, shall decay. 

No tomb, shall e'er plead, to remembrance, for thee, 
Or, redeem form, or frame, from the merciless surge ; 

But, the white foam of waves, shall, thy winding-sheet, 
be, 
And, winds, in the midnight, of winter, thy dirge ! 

On beds, of green sea-flowers, thy limbs, shall be laid ; 

Around thy white bones, the red coral, shall grow ; 
Of thy fair yellow locks, threads of amber, be made, 

And, every part, suit, to thy mansion, below. 

Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle, away; 

And, still, the vast waters, above thee, shall roll ; 
Earth, loses thy pattern, for ever, and aye : 

O sailor-boy ! sailor-boy ! peace, to thy soul ! 



Battle of Hohenllnden. 

On Linden, when, the sun, was low, 
All bloodless, lay, the untrodden snow; 
And, dark as winter, was the flow, 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 






BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN. 141 

But, Linden, saw another sight, 
When the drum, beat, at dead of night, 
Commanding fires of death, to light 
The darkness, of her scenery. 

By torch, and trumpet, fast arrayed, 
Each horseman, drew his battle blade ; 
And, furious, every charger, neighed, 
To join the dreadful revelry. 

Then, shook, the hills, with thunder, riven ; 
Then, rushed, the steed, to battle, driven ; 
And, louder, than the bolts of heaven, 
Far, flashed, the red artillery. 

And, redder yet, those fires, shall glow 
On Linden's hills, of blood-stained snow 
And, darker yet, shall be the flow, 
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 

'Tis morn ; but, scarce yon lurid sun, 
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, 
Where, furious Frank, and fiery Hun, 
Shout, in their sulphurous canopy. 

The combat, deepens ; On, ye brave, 
Who rush, to glory, or, the grave ! 
Wave, Munich, all thy banners, wave ! 
And, charge, with all thy chivalry ! 

Few, few, shall part, where many, meet ! 
The snow, shall be, their winding-sheet, 
And, every turf, beneath their feet, 
Shall be, a soldier's sepulchre. 



142 exercises in elocution. 

The Burial of Sir John Moore, who fell at the 
Battle of Corunna. 

Not a drum, was heard, nor a funeral note, 

As his corse, to the rampart, we hurried j 
Not a soldier, discharged his farewell shot 

O'er the grave, where our hero, we buried. 
We buried him, darkly, at dead of night, 

The sods, with our bayonets, turning, 
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, 

And the lantern, dimly burning. 

No useless coffin, enclosed his breast, 

Nor in sheet, nor in shroud, we bound him ; 
But, he lay, like a warrior taking his rest, 

With his martial cloak, around him. 
Few, and short, were the prayers, we said ; 

And, we spoke not a word of sorrow; 
But, we steadfastly gazed, on the face of the dead, 

And, we bitterly thought, of the morrow. 

We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, 

And, smoothed down, his lonely pillow, 
That the foe, and the stranger, would tread, o'er 
his head ; 

And we, far away, on the billow. 
Lightly they'll talk, of the spirit, that's gone, 

And, o'er his cold ashes, upbraid him; 
But, nothing he'll reck, if they let him sleep on, 

In the grave, where his comrades have laid him 

But half, of our heavy task, was done, 

When the clock, told the hour for retiring ; 

And, we knew, by the distant, and random gun, 
That the foe, was sullenly firing. 






THE EPIPHANY. 143 

Slowly, and sadly, we laid him down, 

From the field of his fame, fresh and gory : 

We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, 
But, left him, alone, in his glory. 



The Epiphany. 



Brightest and best, of the sons of the morning, 
Dawn, on our darkness, and lend us, thine aid. 

Star of the East, the horizon, adorning, 
Guide where our infant Kedeemer, is laid. 

Cold, on his cradle, the dew drops, are shining; 

Low, lies his head, with the beasts of the stall ; 
Angels adore him, in slumber, reclining, 

Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour, of all. 

Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion, 
Odors of Edom, and offerings divine ? 

Gems, of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean, 
Myrrh, from the forest, and gold, from the mine 

Vainly, we offer, each ample oblation ; 

Vainly, with gifts, would his favor, secure ; 
Eicher, by far, is the heart's adoration ; 

Dearer, to God, are the prayers of the poor. 

Brightest and best, of the sons of the morning, 
Dawn, on our darkness, and lend us, thine aid. 

Star of the East, the horizon, adorning, 
Guide where our infant Eedeemer, is laid. 



144 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Hyder All 

[Extract from Mr. Burke's Speech on the Nabob of Arcot's Debts. ] 

Among the victims, to this magnificent plan, of uni- 
versal plunder, pursued, by the company, in India, so 
worthy of the heroic avarice, of the projectors, you have 
all heard, (and, he has made himself, to be well remem- 
bered) of an Indian chief, called, Hyder Ali, Khan. This 
man, possessed the western, as the company, under the 
Nabob of Arcot, does, the eastern, division of the Car- 
natic. It was, among the leading measures, in the 
design of this cabal, (according to their own emphatic 
language) to extirpate this Hyder Ali. They declared 
the Nabob of Arcot, to be his sovereign; and, himself, to 
be a rebel ; and, publicly invested their instrument, with 
the sovereignty, of the kingdom of Mysore. But, their 
victim, was not, of the passive kind : they were, soon, 
obliged, to conclude a treaty of peace, and close alliance, 
with this rebel, at the gates of Madras. 

Both before, and since, that treaty, every principle 
of policy, pointed out this power, as a natural alliance; 
and, on his part, it was courted, by every sort of ami- 
cable office. But, the cabinet council of English creditors, 
would not suffer their Nabob of Arcot, to sign the treaty ; 
nor, even, to give to a prince, at least his equal, the ordi- 
nary titles of respect, and courtesy. From that time, 
forward, a continued plot, was carried on, within the 
divan, black, and white, of the Nabob of Arcot, for the 
destruction, of this Hyder Ali. As to the outward mem- 
bers, of the double, or, rather, treble government, of 
Madras, which had signed the treaty, they were, always, 
prevented, by some overruling influence, (which they 
did not describe, but, which cannot be misunderstood) 



IIYDER ALL 145 

from performing, what justice, and interest combined, 
so evidently, to enforce. 

When, at length, Hyder Ali, found, that he had to do 
with men, who, either, would sign no convention, or, 
whom no treaty, and no signature, could bind, and, who 
were the determined enemies, of human intercourse, 
itself, he decreed, to make the country, possessed by 
these incorrigible, and predestinated criminals, a me- 
morable example, to mankind. He resolved, in the 
gloomy recesses, of a mind, capacious of such things, to 
leave the whole Carnatic, an everlasting monument of 
vengeance; and, to put perpetual desolation, as a bar- 
rier, between him, and those, against whom, the faith, 
which holds the moral elements, of the world, together, 
was no protection. 

He became, at length, so confident, of his force, and, 
so collected, in his might, that, he made no secret, what- 
ever, of his dreadful resolution. Having terminated his 
disputes, with every enemy, and, every rival, who buried 
their mutual animosities in their common interest, against 
the creditors, of the Nabob of Arcot, he drew, from every 
quarter, whatever, a savage ferocity, could add, to his 
new rudiments, in the art of destruction ; and, com- 
pounding all the materials, of fury, havoc, and desola- 
tion, into one, black cloud, he hung, for a while, on the 
declivities, of the mountains. Whilst the authors, of all 
these evils, were, idly, and stupidly, gazing, on this 
menacing meteor, which blackened all the horizon, it 
suddenly burst, and, poured down, the whole of its con- 
tents, upon the plains, of the Carnatic. 

Then, ensued, a scene of woe, the like of which, no 
eye had seen, no heart, conceived, and, which no 
tongue, can adequately tell. All the horrors, of war, 
before known, or heard of, were mercy, to that new 
havoc. A storm, of universal fire, blasted, every field, 

32 



146 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

consumed, every house, and, destroyed, every temple. 
The miserable inhabitants, flying from their flaming 
villages, in part, were slaughtered ; others, without re- 
gard, to sex, to age, to rank, or sacredness of function, 
fathers, torn from their children, husbands, from wives, 
enveloped, in a whirlwind of cavalry, and, amidst the 
goading spears, of drivers, and, the trampling, of pur- 
suing horses, were swept, into captivity, in an unknown, 
and hostile, land. Those, who were able, to evade this 
tempest, fled, to the walled cities; but, escaping from 
fire, sword, and exile, they fell, into the jaws of 
famine. 

For eighteen, months, without intermission, this de- 
struction, raged, from the gates of Madras, to the gates 
of Tanjore; and, so completely, did these masters, in 
their art, Hyder Ali, and his more ferocious son, absolve 
themselves, of their impious vow, that, when the British 
armies, traversed, as they did, the Carnatic, for hundreds 
of miles, in all directions, through the whole line, of their 
march, they did not see, one man, not one woman, not 
one child, not one four-footed beast, of any description 
whatever. One, dead, uniform, silence, reigned over the 
whole region. 



Douglas's Account of Himself. 

My name, is Norval ; on the Grampian hills, 
My father, feeds his flocks j a frugal swain, 
Whose constant cares were, to increase his store, 
And, keep his only son, myself, at home : 
For, I had heard, of battles, and, I longed, 



DOUGLAS'S ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF. 147 

To follow, to the field, some warlike lord ; 

And, heaven, soon, granted, what, my sire, denied ! 

This moon, which rose, last night, round as my shield, 

Had not, yet, filled her horns, when, by her light, 

A hand, of fierce barbarians, from the hills, 

Bushed, like a torrent, down upon the vale, 

Sweeping our flocks, and herds. The shepherds, fled, 

For safety, and for succor. I, alone, 

With bended bow, and quiver, full of arrows, 

Hovered, about the enemy, and, marked 

The road, he took : then, hasted, to my friends, 

Whom, with a troop, of fifty chosen men, 

I met advancing. The pursuit, I led, 

Till we o'ertook, the spoil-encumbered foe. 

We fought, and conquered. Ere a sword, was drawn, 

An arrow, from my bow, had pierced their chief; 

Who wore, that day, the arms, which, now, I wear. 

Eeturning home, in triumph, I disdained 

The shepherd's slothful life; and, having heard, 

That our good king, had summoned his bold peers, 

To lead their warriors, to the Carron side, 

I left my father's house, and took, with me, 

A chosen servant, to conduct my steps ; 

Yon trembling coward, who forsook his master. 

Journeying, with this intent, I passed these towers, 

And, heaven-directed, came, this day, to do 

The happy deed, that gilds my humble name. 



148 exercises in elocution. 

Account Current. 

Woman, Dr. 

Oh, the woe, that, woman brings ! 

Source of sorrow, grief and pain ! 
All our evils, have their springs, 

In the first, of female train. 

Eve, by eating, led poor Adam 
Out of Eden, and, astray ; 

Look for sorrow, still, where Madam, 
Pert and proud, directs the way. 

Courtship, is a slavish pleasure, 
Soothing a coquettish train ; 

Wedded — what, the mighty treasure ? 
Doomed, to drag, a golden chain. 

Noisy clack, and constant brawling, 
Discord, and, domestic strife; 

Empty cupboard, children, bawling, 
Scolding woman, made, a wife. 

Gaudy dress, and, haughty carriage, 
Love's fond balance, fled, and, gone; 

These, the bitter fruits, of marriage i 
He, that's wise, will live, alone ! 

Contra, Gr. 

Oh ! what joys, from woman, spring, 
Source of bliss, and, purest peace ; 

Eden, could not, comfort, bring, 
Till fair woman, showed her face. 



RECEPTION OF COLUMBUS. 149 

When she came, good, honest, Adam 

Clasped the gift, with open arms; 
He left Eden, for his madam ; 

So, our parent, prized her charms. 

Courtship, thrills the soul, with pleasure ; 

Virtue's blush, on beauty's cheek : 
Happy prelude, to a treasure, 

Kings, have left their crowns, to seek ! 

Lovely looks, and constant courting, 

Sweetening all the toil of life ; 
Cheerful children, harmless sporting, 

Lovely woman, made, a wife ! 

Modest dress, and, gentle carriage, 

Love, triumphant, on his throne j 
These, the blissful fruits, of marriage ; 

None, but fools, would live alone. 



Reception of Columbus on his Return to Spain. 

The fame of his discovery, had resounded, through- 
out the nation; and, as his route, lay through several 
of the finest, and most populous, provinces of Spain, 
his journey, appeared like the progress, of a sovereign. 
Wherever, he passed, the surrounding country, poured 
forth its inhabitants, who lined, the road, and, thronged, 
the villages. In the large towns, the streets, windows, 
and balconies, were filled, with eager spectators, who 
rent the air, with acclamations. 

32* 



150 . EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

His journey, was, continually, impeded, by the multi- 
tude, pressing, to gain a sight of him, and, of the In- 
dians, who were regarded, with as much admiration, 
as if they had been natives, of another planet. It was 
impossible, to satisfy the craving curiosity, which as- 
sailed himself, and, his attendants, at every stage, with 
innumerable questions : popular rumor, as usual, had 
exaggerated the truth, and, had filled the newly-found 
country, with all kinds of wonders. 

It was, about the middle of April, that Columbus, 
arrived at Barcelona, where, every preparation had 
been made, to give him a solemn, and, magnificent, re- 
ception. The beauty, and, serenity, of the weather, 
in that genial season, and, favored climate, contributed 
to give splendor, to this memorable ceremony. As he 
drew near, the place, many of the more youthful cour- 
tiers, and, hidalgos of gallant bearing, together, with a 
vast concourse, of the populace, came forth to meet, 
and, welcome, him. 

His entrance, into this noble city, has been compared, 
to one of those triumphs, which, the Eomans were ac- 
customed to decree, to conquerors. First, were pa- 
raded, the Indians, painted, according to their savage 
fashion, decorated, with tropical feathers, and, with 
their national ornaments, of gold; after these, were 
borne, various kinds of live parrots; together, with 
stuffed birds, and, animals of unknown species; and, 
rare plants, supposed to be of precious qualities : while, 
great care, was taken, to make a conspicuous display of 
Indian coronets, bracelets, and other decorations of 
gold, which might give an idea, of the wealth of the 
newly-discovered regions. After these, followed Colum- 
bus, on horseback, surrounded by a brilliant cavalcade, 
of Spanish chivalry. 

The streets, were, almost, impassable, from the count- 



I 



RECEPTION OF COLUMBUS. 151 

less multitude; the windows, and, balconies, were 
crowded, with the fair; the very roofs, were covered, 
with spectators. It seemed, as if the public eye, could 
not be sated, with gazing on these trophies, of an un- 
known world ; or, on the remarkable man, by whom, it 
had been discovered. There was a sublimity, in this 
event, that mingled a solemn feeling, with the public 
joy. It was looked upon, as a vast, and signal, dispen- 
sation of Providence, in reward, for the piety, of the 
monarchs; and, the majestic, and venerable, appearance, 
of the discoverer, so different, from the youth and buoy- 
ancy that, are, generally, expected from roving enter- 
prise, seemed, in harmony, with the grandeur and 
dignity, of his achievement. 

To receive him, with suitable pomp, and, distinction, 
the sovereigns, had ordered their throne, to be placed 
in public, under a rich canopy of brocade of gold, in a 
vast and splendid saloon. Here, the king and queen, 
awaited his arrival, seated, in state, with the prince 
Juan, beside them, and, attended by the dignitaries of 
their court, and, the principal nobility of Castile, Va- 
lentia, Catalonia, and, Arragon, all impatient, to be- 
hold the man, who had conferred so incalculable a 
benefit, upon the nation. 

At length, Columbus entered the hall, surrounded, 
by a brilliant crowd of cavaliers ; among whom, says 
Las Casas, he was conspicuous, for his stately and com- 
manding person, which, with his countenance, rendered 
venerable, by his gray hairs, gave him, the august ap- 
pearance, of a senator of Rome. A modest smile, 
lighted up his features, showing that he enjoyed the 
state, and glory, in which he came; and, certainly, 
nothing could be more deeply moving, to a mind, in- 
flamed by noble ambition, and, conscious of having 
greatly deserved, than were these testimonials, of the 



152 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

admiration, and gratitude, of a nation, or, rather, of a 
world. 

As Columbus approached, the sovereigns, rose, as 
if receiving a person, of the highest rank. Bending 
his knees, he requested to kiss their hands ; but, there 
was some hesitation, on the part of their majesties, to 
permit this act of vassalage. Eaising him, in the most 
gracious manner, they ordered him, to seat himself in 
their presence ; a rare honor, in this proud, and, punc- 
tilious, court. 

At the request of their majesties, Columbus, now, 
gave an account, of the most striking events, of his 
voyage, and, a description of the islands, which he had 
discovered. He displayed the specimens, he had 
brought, of unknown birds, and, other animals ; of rare 
plants, of medicinal, and, aromatic, virtue; of native 
gold, in dust, in crude masses, or labored into bar- 
baric ornaments; and, above all, the natives of these 
countries, who were objects, of intense and inexhaust- 
ible interest ; since there is nothing, to man, so curious, 
as the varieties, of his own species. All these, he 
pronounced, mere harbingers of greater discoveries, he 
had, yet, to make, which, would add realms of incalcu- 
lable wealth, to the dominions of their majesties, and, 
whole nations of proselytes, to the true faith. 

The words of Columbus, were listened to, with pro- 
found emotion, by the sovereigns. When he had 
finished, they sunk, on their knees, and, raising their 
clasped hands, to heaven, their eyes, filled with tears 
of joy and gratitude, they poured forth thanks, and 
praises, to God, for so great a providence; all, present, 
followed their example ; a deep and solemn enthusiasm, 
pervaded that splendid assembly, and, prevented all 
common acclamations, of triumph. 

The anthem of Te Deum laudamus, chanted by the 



SPEECH OF CICERO AGAINST VERRES. 153 

choir, of the royal chapel, with melodious accom- 
paniments, of the instruments, rose up from the midst, 
in a full body, of sacred harmony, bearing up, as it 
were, the feelings and thoughts, of the auditors to 
heaven ; " so that," says the venerable Las Casas, " it 
seemed, as if, in that hour, they communicated with 
celestial delights." Such, was the solemn and pious 
manner, in which, the brilliant court of Spain, cele- 
brated this sublime event : offering up, a grateful tri- 
bute of melody and praise ; and, giving glory to God, 
for the discovery of another world. 

When, Columbus retired, from the royal presence, 
he was attended, to his residence, by all the court, and, 
followed, by the shouting populace. For many days, 
he was the object of universal curiosity; and, wherever 
he appeared, he was surrounded, by an admiring mul- 
titude. 



Speech of Cicero against Verres. 

The time is come, Fathers, when that, which has long 
been wished for, towards allaying the envy, your order, 
has been subject to, and, removing the imputations, 
against trials, is, effectually, put, into your power. An 
opinion, has, long, prevailed, not only, here at home, but, 
likewise, in foreign countries, both dangerous, to you, 
and, pernicious, to the state, that, in prosecutions, men 
of wealth, are, always, safe, however, clearly, convicted. 

There is now, to be brought, upon his trial, before you, 
to the confusion, I hope, of the propagators, of this 
slanderous imputation, one, whose life, and actions, con- 
demn him, in the opinion of all impartial persons ; but, 



154 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

who, according to his own reckoning, and, declared de- 
pendence upon his riches, is, already, acquitted : I mean, 
Cains Verres. 

I demand justice, of you, Fathers, upon the robber, of 
the public treasury, the oppressor, of Asia Minor, and, 
Pamphylja, the invader, of the rights, and privileges, of 
Eomans, the scourge, and, curse, of Sicily. If that sen- 
tence, is passed upon him, which, his crimes, deserve, 
your authority, Fathers, will be venerable, and, sacred, 
in the eyes of the public ; but, if his great riches, should 
bias you, in his favor, I shall, still, gain one point ; to 
make it apparent, to all the world, that, what, was want- 
ing, in this case, was, not a criminal, nor, a prosecutor ; 
but, justice, and, adequate punishment. 

To pass over, the shameful irregularities of his youth, 
what, does his questorship, the first public employment 
he held, what, does it exhibit, but, one continued scene 
of villanies ? Cneius Carbo, plundered, of the public 
money, by his own treasurer; a consul, stripped, and 
betrayed; an army, deserted, and, reduced, to want; 
a province, robbed ; the civil, and religious rights, of a 
people, violated. 

The employment, he held in Asia Minor, and, Pam- 
phylia, what, did it, produce, but, the ruin of those coun- 
tries, in which, houses, cities, and, temples, were robbed 
by him ? "What, was his conduct, in his pretorship, here, 
at home ? Let the plundered temples, and, public works, 
neglected, that he might embezzle the money, intended 
for carrying them on, bear witness. How, did he, dis- 
charge the office, of a judge ? Let those, who suffered, 
by his injustice, answer. 

But, his pretorship, in Sicily, crowns all his works of I 
wickedness, and, finishes a lasting monument, to his in- ; 
famy. The mischiefs, done by him, in that unhappy 
country, during the three years, of his iniquitous admi- 



SPEECH OF CICERO AGAINST VERRES. 155 

lustration, are such, that many, years, under the wisest, 
and best of pretors, will not be sufficient, to restore 
things to the condition, in which, he found them ; for, it 
is notorious, that, during the time of his tyranny, the 
Sicilians, neither, enjoyed the protection, of their own, 
original, laws, of the regulations, made for their benefit, 
by the Eoman senate, upon their coming under the pro- 
tection, of the commonwealth ; nor, of the natural, and 
unalienable, rights of men. 

His nod has decided all causes, in Sicily, for these, 
three, years. And, his decisions, have broken all law, 
all precedent, all right. The sums, he has, by arbitrary 
taxes, and, unheard-of impositions, extorted from the 
industrious poor, are not to be computed. The most 
faithful allies, ot the commonwealth, have been treated, 
as enemies. Eoman citizens, like slaves, have been put 
to death, with tortures. The most atrocious criminals, 
have been exempted, for money, from deserved punish- 
ments ; and, men of the most unexceptionable characters, 
condemned, and, banished, unheard. 

The harbors, though sufficiently fortified, and the 
gates, of strong towns, have been opened, to pirates, and 
ravagers. The soldiery, and sailors, belonging to a pro- 
vince, under the protection of the commonwealth, have 
been starved to death ; whole fleets, to the great detri- 
ment of the province, suffered to perish. The ancient 
monuments, of either Sicilian, or Eoman greatness, the 
statues of heroes, and, princes, have been carried off; 
and, the temples, stripped of the images. 

Having, by his iniquitous sentences, filled the prisons, 
with the most industrious, and, deserving of the people, 
he, then, proceeded, to order numbers of Eoman citi- 
zens, to be strangled, in the jails; so that the exclama- 
tion, " I am a citizen of Eome \" which has, often, in the 
most distant regions, and, among the most barbarous 



156 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

people, been a protection, was of no service to them ; 
but, on the contrary, brought a speedier, and, more 
severe, punishment upon them. 

I ask now, Yerres, what thou hast, to advance, 
against this charge ? Wilt thou pretend, to deny it ? 
Wilt thou pretend, that, any thing false, that, even, any 
thing aggravated, has been urged, against thee ? Had 
any prince, or, any state, committed the same outrage, 
against the privilege of Eoman citizens, should we not 
think, we had sufficient ground, for demanding satisfac- 
tion ? 

What punishment, ought, then, to be inflicted upon a 
tyrannical, and, wicked pretor, who dared, at no greater 
distance, than Sicily, within sight of the Italian coast, to 
put, to the infamous death of crucifixion, that unfortunate, 
and innocent citizen, Publius G-avius Cosanus, only, for 
his having asserted his privilege, of citizenship, and, de- 
clared his intention, of appealing, to the justice of his 
country, against the cruel oppressor, who had, unjustly, 
confined him, in prison, at Syracuse, whence, he had, 
just, made his escape ? 

The unhappy man, arrested as he was going to em- 
bark, for his native country, is brought before the 
wicked pretor. With eyes, darting fury, and, a counte- 
nance, distorted with cruelty, he orders the helpless vic- 
tim of his rage, to be stripped, and rods to be brought ; 
accusing him, but without the least shadow, of evi- 
dence, or, even, of suspicion, of having come to Sicily, 
as a spy. It was, in vain, that the unhappy man, cried 
out, "I am a Eoman citizen — I have served, uuder 
Lucius Pretius, who is, now, at Panormus, and, will at- 
test my innocence/' 

The blood-thirsty pretor, deaf, to all he could urge, 
in his own defence, ordered the infamous punishment; 
to be inflicted. Thus, Fathers, was an innocent Eoman 



SPEECH OF CICEKO AGAINST VERRES. 157 

citizen, publicly, mangled with scourging; while, the 
only words, he uttered, amidst his cruel sufferings, 
were, " I am a Eoman citizen !" With these, he hoped 
to defend himself, from violence, and, infamy. But, 
of so little service, was this privilege, to him, that, 
whilo he was, thus, asserting his citizenship, the order 
was given, for his execution, — for his execution, upon 
the cross. 

liberty ! — O sound, once, delightful, to every Eoman 
ear ! O sacred privilege, of Eoman citizenship ! — once, 
sacred ! — now, trampled upon ! — But, what then ! Is it 
come to this ? Shall an inferior magistrate, a governor, 
who holds his whole power, of the Eoman people, in a 
Eoman province, within sight of Italy, bind, scourge, 
torture, with fire, and, red hot plates of iron, and, at 
last, put to the infamous death, of the cross, a Eoman 
citizen ? Shall neither, the cries, of innocence, expiring 
in agony, nor, the tears, of pitying spectators, nor, the 
majesty of the Eoman commonwealth, nor, the fear of 
the justice of his country, restrain the licentious, and, 
wanton, cruelty of a monster, who, in confidence of his 
riches, strikes at the root of liberty, and, sets mankind, 
at defiance ? 

1 conclude, with expressing my hopes, that your wis- 
dom, and justice, Fathers, will not, by suffering the 
atrocious, and, unexampled, insolence, of Caius Yerres, 
to escape due punishment, leave room, to apprehend the 
danger, of a total subversion of authority, and, the in- 
troduction, of general anarchy, and, confusion. 



158 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



Fortieth Chapter of Isaiah. 

Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith, your God. 
Speak ye, comfortably, to Jerusalem, and, cry unto her, 
that her warfare, is accomplished ; that her iniquity, is 
pardoned; for, she hath received, of the Lord's hand, 
double, for all her sins. 

The voice of him, that crieth, in the wilderness, Pre- 
pare ye, the way of the Lord; make straight, in the 
desert, a highway for our God. Every valley, shall be 
exalted, and, every mountain, and hill, shall be laid low; 
and, the crooked, shall be made straight, and, the rough 
places, plain; and, the glory of the Lord, shall be re- 
vealed, and, all flesh, shall see it, together; for the 
mouth of the Lord, hath spoken it. The voice said, 
Cry. And, he said, What shall I cry? All flesh, is 
grass; and, all the goodliness thereof, is as the flower 
of the field. The grass, withereth, the flower, fadeth; 
because the spirit of the Lord, bloweth upon it. The 
grass, withereth, the flower, fadeth; but, the word of 
our God, shall stand, for ever. 

O, Zion, that bringest good tidings, get thee up, into 
the high mountain; O, Jerusalem, that bringest good 
tidings, lift up, thy voice, with strength; lift it up; be 
not afraid. Say, unto the cities of Judah, Behold your 
God! Behold, the Lord, God, will come, with a strong 
hand; and, his arm, shall rule for him; behold, his re- 
ward, is with him, and, his work, before him. He shall 
feed his flock, like a shepherd; he shall gather the lambs, 
with his arm, and, carry them, in his bosom; and, shall, 
gently, lead those, that are with young. 

Who hath measured the waters, in the hollow of his 
hand? and, meted out heaven, with the span? and, 
comprehended the dust of the earth, in a measure ? and, 



FORTIETH CHAPTER OP ISAIAH. 159 

weighed the mountains, in scales, and, the hills, in 
a balance? Who hath directed the spirit of the Lord? 
or, being his counsellor, hath taught him ? With whom, 
took he counsel ? and, who instructed him, and, taught 
him, in the path of judgment? and, taught him know- 
ledge? and, showed, to him, the way of understanding? 
Behold, the nations, are, as a drop of a bucket; and, are 
counted, as the small dust of the balance; behold, he 
taketh up, the isles, as a very little thing. And Lebanon, 
is not sufficient, to burn; nor, the beasts thereof, suffi- 
cient for a burnt offering. All nations, before him, are, 
as nothing; and, they are counted to him, less, than 
nothing; and, vanity. 

To whom, then, will ye liken God ? or, what likeness, 
will ye compare, unto him? The workman, melteth a 
graven image; and, the goldsmith, spreadeth it over, 
with gold, and, casteth silver chains. He, that is so 
impoverished, that he hath no oblation, chooseth a tree, 
that will not rot; he seeketh, unto him, a cunning work- 
man, to prepare a graven image, that shall not be moved. 
Have ye not known? have ye not heard? hath it not 
been told, to you, from the beginning? have ye not 
understood, from the foundation of the earth ? It is he, 
that sitteth, upon the circle of the earth; and, the inha- 
bitants thereof, are as grasshoppers; that stretcheth out 
the heavens, as a curtain; and, spreadeth them out, as a 
tent, to dwell in; that bringeth the princes, to nothing; 
he maketh the judges of the earth, as vanity. Yea, 
they shall not be planted; yea, they shall not be sown; 
yea, their stock, shall not take root, in the earth; and, 
he shall blow upon them, and, they shall wither, and, 
the whirlwind, shall take them away, as stubble. To 
whom, then, will you liken me, or, shall I, be equal? 
saith the Holy One. Lift up your eyes, on high, and, 
behold, who hath created these things; that bringeth 



160 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

out, their hosts, by number; he calleth them all, by- 
names, by the greatness of his might, for that, he is 
strong, in power; not one, faileth. 

Why sayest thou, O Jacob, and, speakest, O Israel, 
My way, is hid, from the Lord? and, my judgment, is 
passed over, from my God? Hast thou not known, hast 
thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the 
Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is 
weary? There is no searching, of his understanding 
He giveth power, to the faint; and, to them, that have 
no might, he increaseth strength. Even the youths, 
shall faint, and, be weary, and, the young men, shall, 
utterly, fall. But, they, that wait upon the Lord, shall 
renew their strength; they shall mount up, with wings, 
as eagles; they shall run, and, not be weary; and they 
shall walk, and, not faint. 



On the Death oe John Gummere. 

An eye, that waked, while others slept, in deep repose, 
is sleeping; 

The heart, a reverent watch, that kept, a sabbath, now, 
is keeping; 

A soul, that loved his Maker's law, now stands, redeemed, 
before him, 

"Day without night," to serve and praise, while count- 
less years, roll o'er him. 

The tongue, from which, abstrusest lore, was heard, in 
kindliest tone, 

Tunes the new song, which seraphs love, on earth, un- 
heard, unknown. 






THE VAUDOIS MERCHANT. 161 

He watched the dazzling orbs, that take their glorious 
march, through space, 

And, noted well the smallest star, which left its wonted 
place. 

And, shall we see, from friendship's group, from learn- 
ing's constellation, 

A star, of beauty so serene, forever leave its station, 

Nor, breathe a sigh, nor, shed a tear, nor, trace memo- 
rial fond, 

To tell his course, on this side death, and, show his hope, 
beyond ? 

Yet, vain and needless the attempt. "When Earth's me- 
morials, perish, 

The Eecord Book, before the Throne, his memory, shall 
cherish. 

And then, with glowing seraph throngs, in firm, and 
blest, alliance, 

He looks, into the mysteries, of higher, holier science. 

And, shall we mourn his transit bright, to fadeless joys, 
elysian ? 

Transplanted, from the horoscope, which bounds our 
feeble vision ; 

And, added, to the firmament, more close, around the 
throne ; 

And, clustered, with the stars of morn, whom Christ, 
has made his own. 



The Vaudois Merchant. 

"Oh, lady fair, these silks of mine, are beautiful and 

rare ; 
The richest web, of the Indian loom, which beauty's 

queen, might wear; 

33* 



162 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

And, my pearls, are pure, as thy own fair neck, with 

whose radiant light, they vie ; 
I have brought them, with me, a weary way ; will my 

gentle lady, buy V 9 

And the lady, smiled on the worn old man, through the 

dark, and clustering, curls, 
Which veiled herjixow, as she bent, to view his silks, 

and glittering pearls ; 
And, she placed their price, in the old man's hand, and, 

lightly, turned away ; 
But, she paused, at the wanderer's earnest call, "My 

gentle lady, stay. 

" Oh, lady fair, I have yet, a gem, which, a purer lustre, 

flings, 
Than the diamond flash, of the jewelled crown, on the 

lofty brow of kings ; 
A wonderful pearl, of exceeding price, whose virtue, shall 

not decay; 
Whose light, shall be, as a spell, to thee, and a blessing, 

on thy way." 

The lady glanced, at the mirroring steel, where her form 
of grace, was seen, 

Where her eye shone clear, and her dark locks, waved, 
their clasping pearls, between. 

"Bring forth thy pearl, of exceeding worth, thou tra- 
veller, gray and old, 

And, name the price, of thy precious gem, and my page, 
shall count thy gold." 

The cloud, went off, from the pilgrim's brow, as a small 

and meagre book, 
Unchased with gold, or gem of cost, from his folding 

robe, he took. 






ON THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. 163 

" Here, lady fair, is the pearl of price ; may it prove, as 

such to thee. 
Nay — keep thy gold ; I ask it not \ for, the word of God 

is free." 

The hoary traveller, went his way ; but, the gift, he left 
behind, 

Hath had its pure and perfect work, on that high-born 
maiden's mind ; 

And, she hath turned, from the pride of sin, to the lowli- 
ness of truth ' } 

And, given her human heart, to God, in its beautiful 
hour of youth. 

And, she hath left the gray old halls, where an evil faith 
had power, 

The courtly knights, of her father's train, and the 
maidens, of her bower; 

And, she hath gone, to the Yaudois vales, by lordly feet 
untrod, 

Where the poor and needy, of earth, are rich, in the per- 
fect love of God. 



On the Conversion of St. Paul. 

The conversion of St. Paul, with all its attendant cir- 
cumstances, furnishes one of the most satisfactory proofs, 
that have ever been given, of the Divine origin of our 
holy religion. That this eminent person, from being a 
zealous persecutor of the disciples of Christ, became, all 
at once, a disciple himself, is a fact which cannot be con- 
troverted, without overturning the credit of all history. 
He must, therefore, have been converted in the mira- 



164 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

culous manner, alleged by himself, and, of course, the 
Christian religion, be a Divine revelation ; or, he must 
have been an impostor, an enthusiast, or a dupe, to the 
fraud of others. There is not another alternative, pos- 
sible. 

If he was an impostor, who declared what he knew to 
be false, he must have been induced to act that part, by- 
some motive. But, the only conceivable motives, for 
religious imposture, are, the hopes of advancing one's 
temporal interest, credit, or power ; or, the prospect of 
gratifying some passion or appetite, under the authority 
of the new religion. That none of these, could be St. 
Paul's motive, for professing the faith of Christ crucified, 
is plain, from the state of Judaism and Christianity, at 
the period of his forsaking the former, and embracing 
the latter, faith. Those, whom he left, were the dis- 
posers of wealth, of dignity, of power, in Judea : those, 
to whom he went, were indigent men, oppressed, and 
kept from all means, of improving their fortunes. The 
certain consequence, therefore, of his taking the part 
of Christianity, was the loss, not only of all that he pos- 
sessed, but, of all hopes of acquiring more : whereas, 
by continuing to persecute the Christians, he had hopes, 
rising almost to certainty, of making his fortune, by the 
favor of those, who were at the head of the Jewish 
state; to whom nothing, could so much recommend 
him, as the zeal, which he had shown, in that persecu- 
tion. — As to credit or reputation, could the scholar of 
Gamaliel, hope to gain either, by becoming a teacher, in 
a college of fishermen ? Could he flatter himself, that 
the doctrines, which he taught, would, either in, or out, 
of Judea, do him honor, when he knew that "they 
were, to the Jews, a stumbling block, and, to the Greeks, 
foolishness?" — Was it then the love of power, that in- 
duced him to make this great change ? Power ! over 






ON THE CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL. 165 

whom ? over a flock of sheep, whom he, himself, had 
endeavored to destroy, and, whose very Shepherd, had 
lately been murdered ! — Perhaps, it was with the view, 
of gratifying some licentious passion, under the author- 
ity of the new religion, that he commenced a teacher, 
of that religion ! This cannot be alleged : for, his writ- 
ings, breathe nothing, but the strictest morality; obe- 
dience to magistrates, order, and government ; with the 
utmost abhorrence, of all licentiousness, idleness, or loose 
behavior, under the cloak of religion. We nowhere 
read, in his works, that saints, are above moral ordi- 
nances ; that dominion, is founded in grace ; that mon- 
archy, is despotism, which ought to be abolished ; that 
the fortunes, of the rich, ought to be divided among 
the poor ; that there is no difference, in moral actions ; 
that any impulses of the mind, are to direct us against 
the light of, revealed religion, and the laws of nature ; 
or any of those wicked tenets, by which the peace of 
society, has been, often, disturbed, and the rules of 
morality, have been, often, violated, by men, pretending 
to act, under the sanction of Divine revelation. He 
makes no distinctions, like the impostor of Arabia, in 
favor of himself; nor, does any part of his life, either 
before, or after, his conversion to Christianity, bear any 
mark, of a libertine disposition. As, among the Jews, 
so, among the Christians, his conversation and manners, 
were blameless. 

As St. Paul, was not an impostor, so, it is plain, he 
was not an enthusiast. Heat of temper, melancholy, 
ignorance, credulity, and vanity, are the ingredients, of 
which enthusiasm, is composed : but, from all these, 
except the first, the apostle, appears to have been wholly 
free. That he had great fervor of zeal, both, when a 
Jew and, when a Christian, in maintaining what he 
thought to be right, cannot be denied ; but, he was, at 



166 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

all times, so much master of his temper, as, in matters 
of indifference, to "become all things, to all men;" 
with the most pliant condescension, bending his notions 
and manners to theirs, as far as his duty to God, would 
permit ; a conduct, compatible neither, with the stiffness 
of a bigot, nor, with the violent impulses of fanatical 
delusion. — That he was not melancholy, is plain, from 
his conduct, in embracing every method, which prudence 
could suggest, to escape danger, and, shun persecu- 
tion, when he could do it, without betraying the duty of 
his office, or, the honor of his God. A melancholy 
enthusiast, courts persecution; and, when he cannot 
obtain it, afflicts himself, with absurd penances; but, 
the holiness of St. Paul, consisted, in the simplicity of 
a pious life, and, in the unwearied performance, of his 
apostolical duties. That he was ignorant, no man will 
allege, who is not grossly ignorant himself; for, he ap- 
pears to have been, master, not only of the Jewish 
learning, but, also, of the Greek philosophy; and, to 
have been very conversant, even with the Greek poets. 
That he was not credulous, is plain, from his having 
resisted the evidence, of all the miracles, performed, on 
earth, by Christ, as well as those, that were afterwards 
worked by the apostles; to the fame of which, as he 
lived in Jerusalem, he could not have been, a stranger. 
— And, that he was as free from vanity, as any man 
that ever lived, may be gathered, from all that we see, 
in his writings, or know, of his life. He represents 
himself as the least of the apostles, and, not meet, to be 
called an apostle. He says that, he is the chief of sin- 
ners ; and he prefers, in the strongest terms, universal 
benevolence, to faith, and prophecy, and miracles, and 
all the gifts and graces, with which, he could be 
endowed. Is this, the language of vanity or en- 
thusiasm ? 



HARE AND HER FRIENDS. 161 

Having thus shown that St. Paul was neither an im- 
postor nor an enthusiast, it remains only, to be inquired, 
whether he was deceived, by the fraud of others; but, 
this inquiry, needs not be long ; for, who was to deceive 
him ? A few, illiterate, fishermen, of Galilee ? It was 
morally impossible, for such men, to conceive the 
thought, of turning the most enlightened, of their 
opponents, and the cruellest, of their persecutors, into 
an apostle; and to do this, by a fraud, in the very 
instant, of his greatest fury, against them, and their 
Lord. But, could they, have been so extravagant, as to 
conceive such a thought, it was physically impossible, 
for them, to execute it, in the manner, in which we find, 
his conversion was effected. Could they, produce a 
light in the air, which, at mid-day, was brighter, than 
the sun ? Could they, make Saul, hear words, from that 
light, which were not heard, by the rest of the company? 
Could they, make him blind, for three days, after that 
vision, and then, make scales, fall from his eyes, and, 
restore him to sight, by a word ? Or, could they, make 
him, and those, who travelled with him, believe that all 
these things, had happened, if they had not, happened ? 
Most unquestionably, no fraud was equal, to all this. 

Since, then, St. Paul, was not an impostor, an en- 
thusiast, or a person, deceived by the fraud of others, 
it follows, that his conversion, was miraculous, and, that 
the Christian religion, is a Divine revelation. 



Hare and her Friends. 

Friendship, in truth, is but a name, 
Unless, to few, we stint the flame. 
The child, who many fathers, share, 
Hath, seldom, known a father's care, 



168 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

'Tis thus, in friendship ; who depend, 
On many, rarely, find a friend. 

A hare, who, in a civil way, 
Complied with everything, like Gay, 
Was known, by all the bestial train, 
Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain. 
Her care was, never to offend ; 
And, every creature, was her friend. 

As, forth, she went, at early dawn, 
To taste the dew-besprinkled lawn, 
Behind, she hears the hunter's cries, 
And, from deep-mouthed thunder, flies. 
She starts, she stops, she pants for breath ; 
She hears, the near advance of death ; 
She doubles, to mislead the hound, 
And, measures, back, her mazy round ; 
Till, fainting, in the public way, 
Half-dead with fear, she gasping lay. 

What transport, in her bosom, grew, 
When first the horse, appeared, in view ! 
"Let me," says she, "your back, ascend, 
And, owe my safety, to a friend. 
You know, my feet, betray my flight ; 
To friendship, every burden's light." 

The horse replied, " Poor, honest, puss ! 
It grieves my heart, to see thee thus : 
Be comforted, relief is near; 
For, all your friends, are in the rear." 

She, next, the stately bull, implored ; 
And, thus replied, the mighty lord -, 
" Since, every beast alive, can tell, 
That I, sincerely, wish you, well, 
I may, without offence, pretend, 
To take the freedom of a friend. — 



SPEECH OP THE EARL OF CHATHAM. 169 

To leave you thus, might seem, unkind; 
But see, the goat, is just behind." 

The goat, remarked, her pulse, was high, 
Her languid head, her heavy eye ; 
"My back," says he, "may do you, harm; 
The sheep's, at hand, and wool, is warm." 
The sheep, was feeble, and, complained, 
His sides, a load of wool, sustained : 
Said, he was slow, confessed his fears ; 
For, hounds, eat sheep, as well, as hares. 

She, now, the trotting calf, addressed, 
To save, from death, a friend, distressed. 
" Shall I," says he, H of tender age, 
In this important care, engage ? 
Older, and abler, passed you by : 
How strong, are those ! how weak, am I ? 
Should I presume, to bear you hence, 
Those friends of miDe, might take offence. 
Excuse me, then. You know my heart, 
But, dearest friends, alas ! must part. 
How, shall we all lament ! — Adieu ! 
For, see, the hounds, are just in view." 



Speech of the Earl of Chatham. 

I cannot, my lords, I will not, join, in congratulation, 
on misfortune and disgrace. This, my lords, is a perilous, 
and tremendous moment : it is not a time, for adulation ; 
the smoothness of flattery, cannot save us, in this rugged, 
and awful crisis. It is, now, necessary, to instruct the 
throne, in the language of truth. ' We must, if possible, 
dispel the delusion and darkness, which envelop it; and, 
display, in its full danger, and genuine colors, the ruin, 

u 



170 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

which is brought to our doors. Can ministers, still pre- 
sume, to expect support, in their infatuation ? Can par- 
liament, be so dead, to its dignity, and duty, as to give 
its support to measures, thus obtruded, and forced upon 
them ? measures, my lords, which have reduced this 
late flourishing empire, to scorn and contempt. But 
yesterday, and England, might have stood, against the 
world ; now, none so poor, as to do her reverence ! The 
people, whom we at first despised, as rebels, but, whom 
we now acknowledge, as enemies, are abetted, against 
us, supplied, with every military store, their interest, 
consulted, and their ambassadors, entertained, by our 
inveterate enemy j — and ministers, do not, and, dare not, 
interpose with dignity, or effect. The desperate state 
of our army, abroad, is, in part, known. Ko man, more 
highly esteems and honors the English troops, than I do : 
I know their virtues, and their valor ; I know, they can 
achieve anything, but impossibilities ; and, I know, that 
the conquest of English America, is an impossibility. 
Yon cannot, my lords, you cannot, conquer America. 
What is your present situation, there ? We do not know 
the worst : but, we know, that, in three campaigns, we 
have done, nothing, and, suffered, much. You may swell 
every expense, accumulate every assistance, and, extend 
your traffic, to the shambles, of every German despot ; 
your attempts, will be, for ever, vain and impotent; — 
doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary aid, on which you 
rely; for, it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the 
minds of your adversaries, to overrun them, with the 
mercenary sons of rapine and plunder • devoting them, 
and their possessions, to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. 
But, my lords, who, is the man, that, in addition to 
the disgraces, and mischiefs, of the war, has dared, to 
authorize, and associate to our arms, the tomahawk, and 
scalping-knife, of the savage ? — to call, into civilized al- 



. 



SPEECH OF THE EARL OP CHATHAM. 171 

liance, the wild and inhuman inhabitants of the woods ? 
— to delegate to the merciless Indian, the defence of dis- 
puted rights ; and, to wage the horrors, of his barbarous 
war, against our brethren ? My lords, these enormities 
cry aloud, for redress, and punishment. But, my lords, 
this barbarous measure, has been defended, not only, on 
the principles of policy, and necessity, but, also, on those 
of morality ; " for, it is perfectly allowable," says Lord 
Suffolk, "to use all the means, which God, and nature, 
have put into our hands." I am astonished; I am 
shocked; to hear such principles, confessed; to hear 
them avowed, in this house, or, in this country. My 
lords, I did not intend to encroach, so much, on your at- 
tention; but, I cannot repress my indignation — I feel 
myself impelled, to speak. My lords, we are called upon, 
as members of this house, as men, as Christians, to pro- 
test, against such horrible barbarity ! — " That God, and 
nature, have put into our hands !" What ideas, of God 
and nature, that noble lord, may entertain, I know not; 
but, I know, that such detestable principles, are equally 
abhorrent, to religion, and, humanity. What ! to attri- 
bute the sacred sanction, of God, and nature, to the 
massacres, of the Indian scalping-knife ! to the savage, 
torturing, and, murdering, his unhappy victims ! Such 
notions, shock every precept of morality, every feeling 
of humanity, every sentiment of honor. These abomin- 
able principles, and this, more abominable, avowal of 
them, demand the most decisive indignation. I call, upon 
that, right reverend, and this, most learned, Bench, to vin- 
dicate, the religion of their God, to support, the justice 
of their country. I call, upon the bishops, to interpose 
the unsullied sanctity of their lawn, — upon the judges, 
to interpose the purity of their ermine, to save us from 
this pollution. I call, upon the honor of your lordships, 
to reverence, the dignity of your ancestors, and, to main- 



172 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

tain, your own. I call, upon the spirit, and humanity, 
of my country, to vindicate, the national character. I in- 
voke, the genius of the constitution. From the tapestry, 
that adorns these walls, the immortal ancestor, of this 
noble lord, frowns with indignation, at the disgrace, of 
his country. In vain, did he, defend the liberty, and es- 
tablish the religion, of Britain, against the tyranny of 
Rome, if these, worse than popish cruelties, and, inquisi- 
torial practices, are endured among us. To send forth the 
merciless Indian, thirsting for blood! against whom? — 
your Protestant brethren ! — to lay waste their country, to 
desolate their dwellings, and extirpate their race and 
name, by the aid, and instrumentality, of these ungovern- 
able savages! — Spain, can, no longer, boast pre-eminence, 
in barbarity. She, armed herself, with bloodhounds, to ex- 
tirpate the wretched natives of Mexico; we, more ruth- 
less, loose those brutal warriors, against our countrymen, 
in America, endeared to us, by every tie, that can sanctify 
humanity. I solemnly call, upon your lordships, and, upon 
every order of men, in the state, to stamp, upon this in- 
famous procedure, the indelible stigma, of the public ab- 
horrence. More particularly, I call upon the venerable 
prelates, of our religion, to do away this iniquity : let 
them -perform a lustration, to purify the country, from 
this deep, and deadly, sin. 

My lords, I am old and weak, and, at present, unable 
to say more ; but, my feelings, and indignation, were to 
strong, to have allowed me, to say less. I could no 
have slept, this night, in my bed, nor, even reposed m 
head, upon my pillow, without giving vent, to my stead 
fast abhorrence, of such enormous, and preposterous 
principles. 



Le 

i 



ON FRIENDSHIP. 173 



On Friendship. 



What virtue, or, what mental grace, 
But men, unqualified, and, base, 
Will boast it, their profession ? 
Profusion, apes the noble part, 
Of liberality of heart, 
And dulness, of discretion. 

If every polished gem, we find, 
Illuminating heart, or, mind, 

Provoke, to imitation, 
No wonder, Friendship, does the same, 
That jewel, of the purest flame, 

Or, rather, constellation. 

No knave, but, boldly, will pretend 
The requisites, that form a friend; 

A real, and, a sound, one ; 
Nor, any fool, he would deceive, 
But, proves as ready, to believe, 

And, dream, that he has found one. 

Candid, and, generous, and, just, 
Boys, care, but little, whom they trust ; 

An error, soon corrected j 
For, who, but learns, in riper years/y 
That man, when smoothest he appears, 

Is, most, to be suspected ? 

But, here, again, a danger lies, 
Lest, having misemployed our eyes, 

And, taken trash, for treasure, 
We should, unwarily, conclude, 
Friendship, a false, ideal, good, 

A mere, Utopian, pleasure. 

34* 



174 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

An acquisition, rather rare, 
Is yet, no subject of despair; 

JSTor, is it wise, complaining, 
If, either, on forbidden ground, 
Or, where it was, not, to be found, 

We sought, without attaining. 

No friendship, will abide the test, 
That stands, on sordid interest, 

Or, mean self-love, erected; 
Nor such, as may, a while, subsist 
Between the sot, and, sensualist, 

For vicious ends, connected. 

Who seeks a friend, should come, disposed, 
T' exhibit, in full bloom disclosed, 

The graces, and, the beauties, 
That form the character he seeks ; 
For, 'tis a union, that bespeaks 

Eeciprocated, duties. 

Mutual attention, is implied, 
And, equal truth, on either side, 

And, constantly, supported ; 
'Tis senseless arrogance, t' accuse 
Another, of sinister views, 

Our own, as much, distorted. . 

But, will sincerity, suffice ? 
It is, indeed, above all price, 

And, must be made, the basis ; 
But, every virtue, of the soul, 
Must constitute the charming whole, 

All shining, in their places. 



ON FRIENDSHIP. 175 

A fretful temper, will divide 

The closest knot, that may be tied ; ■ 

By careless, sharp, corrosion ; 
A temper, passionate, and fierce, 
May, suddenly, your joys disperse, 

At one, immense, explosion. 

In vain, the talkative unite, 

In hopes, of permanent delight — 

The secret, just committed, 
Forgetting its important weight, 
They drop, through mere desire, to prate, 

Arid, by themselves, outwitted. 

How bright, soe'er, the prospect seems, 
All thoughts, of friendship, are but dreams, 

If envy, chance, to creep in : 
An envious man, if you succeed, 
May prove, a dangerous foe, indeed, 

But, not a friend, worth keeping. 

As Envy, pines, at Good, possessed, 
So, Jealousy, looks forth, distressed, 

On Good, that seems, approaching ; 
And, if success, his steps, attend, 
Discerns a rival, in a friend, 

And, hates him, for encroaching. 

Hence, authors, of illustrious name, 
Unless, belied, by common fame, 

Are, sadly, prone to quarrel ; 
To deem the wit, a friend displays, 
A tax, upon their own just praise, 

And, pluck each others' laurel. 



176 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

A man, renowned for repartee, 
"Will, seldom, scruple, to make free, 

With friendship's finest feeling; 
Will thrust a dagger, at your breast, 
And, say, he wounded you, in jest, 

By way of balm, for healing. 

Whoever, keeps an open ear, 
For tattlers, will be sure, to hear 

The trumpet of contention ; 
Aspersion, is the babbler's trade, 
To listen, is to lend him aid ; 

And, rush, into dissension. 

A friendship, that, in frequent fits, 
Of controversial rage, emits 

The sparks of disputation, 
Like, hand in hand, insurance plates, 
Most unavoidably, creates 

The thought, of conflagration. 

Some, fickle, creatures, boast a soul 
True, as the needle, to the pole ; 

Their humor, yet, so various, 
They manifest, their whole life, through, 
The needle's, deviation, too, 

Their love, is so precarious. 

The great, and small, but rarely, meet, 
On terms, of amity, complete ; 

Plebeians, must surrender, 
And, yield, so much, to noble folk, 
It is, combining fire, with smoke, 

Obscurity, with splendor. 



ON FRIENDSHIP. 177 

Some, aro so placid, and sereno, 
(As Irish bogs, are, always green) 

They sleep, secure from waking : 
And, are, indeed, a bog, that bears 
Your unparticipated cares, 

Unmoved, and, without quaking. 

Courtier, and patriot, cannot mix 
Their heterogeneous politics, 

Without an effervescence, 
Like that, of salts, with lemon juice, 
Which, does not, yet, like that, produce 

A friendly coalescence. 

Eeligion, should extinguish strife, 
And, make a calm, of human life; 

But, friends, that chance to differ, 
On points, which God, has left, at large, 
How fiercely, will they meet, and charge ; 

No combatants, are stiffer ! 

To prove, at last, my main intent, 
Needs no expense, of argument, 

No cutting, and contriving; 
Seeking a real friend, we seem, 
T' adopt the chemist's golden dream, 

With still less hope, of thriving. 

Sometimes, the fault, is all our own, 
Some blemish, in due time, made known, 

By trespass, or, omission ; 
Sometimes, occasion, brings, to light, 
Our friend's defect, long hid, from sight, 

And, even, from suspicion. 



178 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Then, judge yourself, and, prove your man 
As circumspectly, as you can ; 

And, having made election, 
Beware, no negligence, of yours, 
Such, as a friend, but ill endures, 

Enfeeble his affection. 

That, secrets, are a sacred trust, 

That, friends, should be sincere, and just, 

That, constancy, befits them, 
Are observations, on the case, 
That savor, much, of commonplace, 

And, all the world, admits them. 

But, 'tis not timber, lead, and stone, 
An architect, requires, alone, 

To finish a fine building; 
The palace, were, but half, complete, 
If he, could, possibly, forget 
The carving, and, the gilding. 

The man, that hails you, Tom, or, Jack, 
And, proves, by thumps, upon your back, 

How he, esteems your merit, 
Is such a friend, that, one had need, 
Be, very much, his friend, indeed, 

To pardon, or, to bear it. 

As, similarity of mind, 

Or, something, not to be defined, 

First, fixes our attention ; 
So, manners, decent and polite, 
The same, we practised, at first sight, 

Must save it, from declension. 



ON FRIENDSHIP. 179 

Some, act, upon this, prudent, plan, 
" Say, little, and, hear, all you can f 

Safe, policy, but, hateful — 
So, barren sands, imbibe the shower, 
But, render, neither, fruit, nor, flower; 

Unpleasant, and, ungrateful. 

The man, I trust, if shy, to me, 
Shall find me, as reserved, as he ; 

No subterfuge, or pleading, 
Shall win my confidence, again ; 
I will, by no means, entertain 

A spy, on my proceeding. 

These samples — for, alas, at last, 
These are, but, samples, and, a taste 

Of evils, yet unmentioned — 
May prove the task, a task, indeed, 
In which, 'tis much, if we succeed, 

However, well, intentioned. 

Pursue the search, and, you will find, 
Good sense, and knowledge, of mankind, 

To be, at least, expedient ; 
And, after, summing all the rest, 
Eeligion, ruling, in the breast, 

A principal ingredient. 

The noblest friendship, ever shown, 
The Saviour's history, makes known ; 

Though some, have turned, and turned it, 
And, whether, being crazed, or, blind, 
Or, seeking, with a biassed mind, 

Have not, it seems, discerned it. 



180 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Oh Friendship ! if my soul, forego 
Thy dear delights, while, here, below, 

To mortify, and, grieve me, 
May I, myself, at last, appear, 
Unworthy, base, and insincere; 

Or, may, my friend, deceive me ! 



An Address to the Deity. 

God, of my life, and, Author, of my days ! 
Permit my feeble voice, to lisp thy praise; 
And, trembling, take, upon a mortal tongue, 
That hallowed name, to harps of seraphs, sung. 
Yet, here, the brightest seraphs, could, no more, 
Than hide their faces, tremble, and adore. 
"Worms, angels, men, in every different sphere, 
Are equal all; for, all, are nothing, here. 
All nature, faints, beneath the mighty name, 
Which, Nature's works, through all her parts, proclaim. 
I feel that name, my inmost thoughts control, 
And, breathe an awful stillness, through my soul: 
As, by a charm, the waves, of grief subside, 
Impetuous passion, stops her headlong tide. 
At thy felt presence, all emotions cease, 
And, my hushed spirit, finds a sudden peace; 
Till, every worldly thought, within me dies, 
And, earth's gay pageants, vanish from my eyes ; 
Till, all my sense, is lost, in infinite, 
And, one, vast object, fills my aching sight. 
But soon, alas ! this holy calm, is broke ; 
My soul, submits, to wear her wonted yoke ; 
With shackled pinions, strives to soar, in vain, 
And, mingles, with the dross of earth, again. 



AN ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. 181 

But he, our gracious Master, kind as just, 
Knowing our framo, remoinbers, man is dust. 
His spirit, ever brooding, o'er our mind, 
Sees the first wish, to better hopes, inclined; 
Marks the young dawn, of every virtuous aim, 
And, fans the smoking flax, into a flame. 
His ears, are open, to the softest cry, 
His grace, descends, to meet the lifted eye; 
Ho reads the language, of a silent tear, 
And, sighs, are incense, from a heart sincere. 
Such, are the vows, the sacrifice, I give ; 
Accept the vow, and, bid the suppliant, live : 
From each terrestrial bondage, set me free; 
Still every wish, that centres not, in thee; 
Bid my fond hopes, my vain disquiets cease, 
And, point my path, to everlasting peace. 

If the soft hand, of winning pleasure, leads 
By living waters, and, through flowery meads, 
When all is smiling, tranquil, and serene, 
And, vernal beauty, paints the flattering scene, 
Oh ! teach me, to elude each latent snare, 
And, whisper, to my sliding heart — Beware ! 
With caution, let me hear the Siren's voice, 
And, doubtful, with a trembling heart, rejoice. 
If, friendless, in a vale of tears, I stray, 
Where, briers, wound, and, thorns, perplex my way, 
Still, let my steady soul, thy goodness, see, 
And, with strong confidence, lay hold on thee; 
With equal eye, my various lot, receive, 
Resigned, to die, or, resolute, to live : 
Prepared to kiss the sceptre, or, the rod, 
While, God, is seen, in all, and, all, in God. 

I read his awful name, emblazoned high, 
With golden letters, on the illumined sky; 

35 



182 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Nor, less, the mystic characters, I see, 

"Wrought, in each flower, inscribed, on every tree : 

In every leaf, that trembles, to the breeze, 

I hear the voice of God, among the trees. 

"With thee, in shady solitudes, I walk, 

"With thee, in busy, crowded, cities, talk; 

In every creature, own thy forming power; 

In each event, thy providence adore : 

Thy hopes, shall animate my drooping soul, 

Thy precepts, guide me, and, thy fear, control. 

Thus, shall I rest, unmoved by all alarms, 

Secure, within the temple, of thine arms, 

From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors, free, 

And, feel myself, omnipotent in thee. 

Then, when, the last, the closing hour, draws, nigh, 

And, earth, recedes, before my swimming eye : 

When, trembling on the doubtful edge, of fate, 

I stand, and, stretch my view, to either state; 

Teach me, to quit this transitory scene, 

With decent triumph, and a look serene; 

Teach me, to fix my ardent hopes, on high, 

And, having lived to thee, in thee, to die. 



The Chameleon. 



Oft, has it been my lot, to mark 
A proud, conceited, talking, spark, 
With eyes, that, hardly, served, at most, 
To guard their master, 'gainst a post; 
Yet, round the world, the blade has been, 
To see, whatever, could be seen : 
Returning, from his finished tour, 
Grown ten, times, perter, than before; 



THE CHAMELEON. 183 

Whatever word, you chance, to drop, 
The travelled fool, your mouth, will stop : 
"But, if my judgment, you'll allow — 
I've seen — and, sure, I ought to know" — 
So, begs, you'd pay a due submission, 
And, acquiesce, in his decision. 

Two travellers, of such a cast, 
As, o'er Arabia's wilds, they passed, 
And, on their way, in friendly chat, 
Now talked, of this, and, then, of that, 
Discoursed, a while, 'mongst other matter, 
Of the chameleon's, form, and, nature. 
"A stranger animal," cries one, 
"Sure, never, lived, beneath the sun! 
A lizard's body, lean, and, long, 
A fish's head, a serpent's tongue, 
Its foot, with triple claw, disjoined; 
And, what a length of tail, behind ! 
How slow, its pace ! and, then, its hue — 
Who ever, saw, so fine a blue ?" 

"Hold there," the other quick replies, 
"'Tis green — I saw it, with these eyes, 
As late, with open mouth, it lay, 
And, warmed it, in the sunny ray; 
Stretched at its ease, the beast, I viewed, 
And, saw it, eat the air, for food." 

"I've seen it, friend, as well as you, 
And, must, again, afiirm it, blue. 
At leisure, I, the beast, surveyed 
Extended, in the cooling shade." 

"'Tis green, 'tis green, I can assure ye." 
" Green !" cries, the other, in a fury — 
"Why, do you think, I've lost my eyes?" 
"'Twere no, great, loss," the friend replies, 



184 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

"For, if they, always, serve you, thus, 
You'll find them, but, of little use." 

So high, at last, the contest rose, 
From words, they, almost, came, to blows : 
When luckily, came by, a third — 
To him, the question, they referred; 
And, begged he'd tell 'em, if he knew, 
Whether the thing, was, green, or, blue. 

"Come/' cries the umpire, "cease your pother, 
The creature's, neither, one, nor, t'other. 
I caught the animal, last night, 
And viewed it, o'er, by candle light: 
I marked it, well — 'twas black, as jet — 
You stare — but, I have got it, yet, 
And, can produce it/' "Pray, then, do: 
For I, am sure, the thing is, blue." 
"And, I'll engage, that, when you've seen 
The reptile, you'll pronounce him, green." 

" Well, then, at once, to ease the doubt," 
Beplies, the man, "I'll turn him out: 
And, when, before your eyes, I've set him, 
If you, don't find him, black, I'll eat him." 

He said; then, full before their sight, 
Produced the beast, and, lo — 'twas white ! 
Both, stared: the man, looked, wondrous, wise — 
"My children," the chameleon, cries, 
(Then first the creature found a tongue,) 
"You all, are right, and, all, are wrong: 
When, next, you talk, of what, you view, 
Think others, see, as well, as you : 
Nor wonder, if you find, that, none 
Prefers your eye-sight, to his own." 



the maniac. 185 

The Maniac. 

Stay, jailer, stay, and, hear my woe! 

She is not mad, who kneels to thee ; 
For what, I'm now, too well I know, 

And, what, I was, and, what, should he. 
I'll rave, no more, in proud despair ; 

My language, shall be mild, though sad : 
But, yet, I firmly, truly swear, 

I am, not, mad, I am, not, mad. 

My tyrant husband, forged the tale, 

Which chains me, in this dismal cell ; 
My fate, unknown, my friends bewail — 

Oh ! jailer, haste, that fate, to tell: 
Oh ! haste, my father's heart, to cheer : 

His heart, at once, 'twill grieve, and, glad, 
To know, though kept, a captive, here, 

I am not, mad, I am not, mad. 

He smiles, in scorn, and turns, the key; 

He quits the grate ; I knelt, in vain ; 
His glimmering lamp, still, still I see — 

'Tis gone ! and all, is gloom, again. 
Cold, bitter, cold ! — No warmth ! no light ! 

Life, all thy comforts, once, I had; 
Yet, here, I'm chained, this freezing night, 

Although not mad ; no, no, not mad. 

'Tis sure, some dream, some vision, vain; 

"What ! I, — the child of rank, and wealth, — 
Am I, the wretch, who clanks this chain, 

Bereft of freedom, friends, and health ? 
Ah ! while, I dwell, on blessings fled, 

Which, never more, my heart must glad, 



186 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

How, aches, my heart, how, burns, my head ; 
But, His not mad ; no, His not mad. 

Hast thou, my child, forgot, ere this, 

A mother's face, a mother's tongue? 
She'll ne'er, forget your parting kiss, 

Nor, round her neck, how fast you clung ; 
Nor, how with her, you sued to stay ; 

Nor, how that suit, your sire, forbade; 
Nor how — I'll drive such thoughts, away; 

They'll make me, mad, they'll make me, mad. 

His rosy lips, how sweet, they smiled ! 

His mild blue eyes, how bright, they shone ! 
None, ever, bore a lovelier child : 

And, art thou, now, forever, gone ? 
And, must I, never, see thee more, 

My pretty, pretty, pretty lad ? 
I will be free ! unbar the door ! 

I am not, mad ; I am, not, mad. 

Oh ! hark ! what mean, those yells, and cries ? 

His chain, some furious, madman, breaks ; 
He comes, — I see his glaring eyes ; 

Now, now, my dungeon-grate he shakes. 
Help ! help ! — He's gone ! — Oh ! fearful woe, 

Such screams to hear, such sights to see ! 
My brain, my brain, — I know, I know, 

I am, not, mad, but, soon, shall be. 

Yes, soon ; — -for, lo you ! — while I speak— 
Mark, how yon demon's eyeballs, glare ! 

He sees me; now, with dreadful shriek, 
He whirls a serpent, high in air. 






ON DECISION OF CHARACTER. 187 

Horror ! — the reptile, strikes his tooth, 
Deep, in my heart, so crushed, and sad ; 

Ay, laugh, ye fiends ; — I feel the truth ; 
Your task is done — I'm mad ! I'm mad ! 



On Decision op Character. 

Without decision of character, a human being, with 
powers, at best, but feeble, and surrounded, by innume- 
rable things, tending to perplex, to divert, and to frus- 
trate, their operations, is, indeed, a pitiable atom; the 
sport of divers, and casual impulses. It is a poor and 
disgraceful, thing, not to be able to reply, with some 
degree of certainty, to the simple questions, "What will 
you be ? What will you do ? 

A little acquaintance with mankind, will supply 
numberless illustrations, of the importance of this qua- 
lification. You will, often, see a person, anxiously 
hesitating, a long time, between different, or, opposite, 
determinations ; though impatient of the pain, of such 
a state, and ashamed of the debility. A faint impulse 
of preference, alternates toward the one, and toward 
the other ; and the mind, while thus held, in a trem- 
bling balance, is vexed that it cannot get some new 
thought, or feeling, or motive; that it has not more 
sense, more resolution, more of any thing, that would 
save it, from envying even the decisive instinct of 
brutes. It wishes, that any circumstance, might hap- 
pen, or, any person, might appear, that could deliver it, 
from the miserable suspense. 

In many instances, when a determination is adopted, 
it is frustrated, by this temperament. A man, for ex- 
ample, resolves on a journey, to-morrow, which, he is not 



188 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

under an absolute necessity to undertake, but, the in- 
ducements appear, this evening, so strong, that he does 
not think it possible, he can hesitate, in the morning. 
In the morning, however, these inducements, have, un- 
accountably, lost much of their force. Like the sun, 
that is rising, at the same time, they appear dim, 
through a mist; and the sky, lowers, or, he fancies that 
it does, and, almost wishes, to see darker clouds, than 
there actually are; recollections of toils and fatigues, 
ill repaid, in past expeditions, rise and pass, into anti- 
cipation; and, he lingers, uncertain, till an advanced 
hour, determines the question for him, by the certainty, 
that, it is now, too late to go. 

Perhaps, a man has conclusive reasons, for wishing to 
remove, to another place of residence. But, when he is 
going, to take the first actual step, toward executing his 
purpose, he is met by a new train of ideas, presenting 
the possible, and, magnifying the unquestionable, disad- 
vantages and uncertainties, of a new situation j awaken- 
ing the natural reluctance to quit a j)lace, to which 
habit, has accommodated his feelings, and, which has 
grown warm to him, (if I may so express it,) by his 
having been in it, so long • giving a new impulse to his 
affection, for the friends,, whom he must leave ; and so, 
detaining him, still lingering, long after his judgment, 
may have dictated to him, to be gone. 

While animated, by some magnanimous sentiments, 
which he has heard, or read, or, while musing on some 
great example, a man may conceive the design, and, 
partly, sketch the plan, of a generous enterprise ; and, 
his imagination, may revel in the felicity, to others, and 
to himself, that would follow, from its accomplishment. 
The splendid representation, always centres, in himself, 
as the hero, who is to realize it. In a moment of re- 
mitted excitement, a faint whisper, from within, may, 



ON DECISION OP CHARACTER. 189 

doubtfully, ask, "Is this more than a dream?" or, "Am 
I, really, destined to achieve such an enterprise Y* 
Destined ! Why ! are not this conviction of its excel- 
lence, this conscious duty of performing the noblest 
things that are possible, and, this passionate ardor, 
enough to constitute a destiny ? 

A man, without decision, can never be said, to belong 
to himself; since, if he dared to assert that he did, the 
puny force of some cause, about as powerful, you would 
suppose, as a spider, may make a seizure of the hapless 
boaster, the next moment, and, contemptuously, exhibit 
the futility of the determinations, by which, he was to 
have proved the independence, of his understanding, 
and, his will. He belongs to whatever, can make cap- 
ture of him ; and, one thing, after another, vindicates 
its right to him, by arresting him, while he is trying to 
go on ; just as twigs and chips, floating near the edge 
of a stream, are interrupted, by every weed, and, 
whirled, in every little eddy. 

The regulation of every man's plan, must greatly de- 
pend, on the course of events, which come, in an order, 
not to be foreseen, or prevented. But, in accommodating 
plans of conduct, to the train of events, the difference, 
between two men, may be no less than that, in one in- 
stance, the man, is subservient to the events, and, in the 
other, the events, are made subservient to the man. 
Some men, seem to have been taken along, by a suc- 
cession of events, and, as it were, handed forward, in 
helpless passiveness, from one to another. The events, 
seized them, as a neutral material, not they, the events. 
Others, advancing through life, with an internal, invinci- 
ble determination, have seemed to make the train of cir- 
cumstances, whatever they were, conduce as much to 
their main design, as if they had, by some directing in- 
terposition, been brought about, on purpose. It is won- 



190 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

derful, how, even the casualties of life, seem to bow to 
them, and yield, to subserve a design, which they may, 
in their first, apparent, tendency, threaten to frustrate. 

You may have known such examples ; and, you may 
have seen a man, of this vigorous character, in a state 
of indecision, concerning some affair, in which, it was 
necessary for him to determine, because, it was necessary 
for him to act. But, in this case, his manner, would 
assure you, that he would not remain long, undecided ; 
you would wonder, if you found him, still balancing and 
hesitating, the next day. If he explained his thoughts, 
you would perceive, that their clear process, evidently, 
at each effort, gaining something, toward the result, 
must, certainly, reach it, ere long. The deliberation of 
such a mind, is a very different thing, from the fluctua- 
tion of one, whose second thinking, only upsets the 
first; and, whose third, confounds both. To know how, 
to obtain a determination, is one of the first requisites, 
and indications, of a rationally decisive character. 



The Old Oaken Bucket. 

How dear, to my heart, are the scenes, of my childhood ! 

When, fond recollection, presents them, to view ; 
The orchard, the meadow, the deep, tangled, wild-wood, 

And every loved spot, which, my infancy, knew; 
The wide spreading pond, and, the mill, that stood by it, 

The bridge, and the rock, where, the cataract, fell; 
The cot of my father, the dairy-house, nigh it, 

And, e'en the rude bucket, which hung, in the well; 
The old oaken, bucket — the iron-bound, bucket — 
That moss-covered, bucket, which hung, in the well. 






THE DOWNFALL OF CARDINAL WOLSEY. 191 

That moss-covered vessel, I hail, as a treasure ; 

For, often, at noon, when returned, from the field, 
I found it, the source, of an exquisite pleasure, 

The purest, and sweetest, that nature, can yield. 
How, ardent, I seized it, with hands, that were glowing, 

And, quick, to the white pebbled bottom, it fell ; 
Then soon, with the emblem of truth, overflowing, 

And, dripping with coolness, it rose, from the well; 
The old oaken, bucket — the iron-bound, bucket — 
The moss-covered, bucket, arose, from the well. 

How sweet, from the green mossy brim, to receive it, 

As, poised on the curb, it inclined, to my lips ! 
Not a full, blushing goblet, could tempt me, to leave it, 

Though filled with the nectar, that Jupiter, sips. 
And now, far removed, from that loved situation, 

The tear of regret, will, intrusively, swell, 
As fancy, reverts, to my father's plantation, 

And, sighs, for the bucket, which hangs, in the well; 
The old oaken, bucket — the iron-bound, bucket — 
The moss-covered, bucket, which hangs, in the well. 



The Downfall of Cardinal "Wolsey. 

Farewell, a long, farewell, to all my greatness ! 
This, is the state of man ; to-day, he puts forth, 
The tender leaves, of hope; to-morrow, blossoms, 
And, bears his blushing honors, thick, upon him ; 
The third day, comes a frost, a killing, frost ; 
And, when he thinks, good easy man, full surely, 
His greatness, is a ripening, nips his root; 
And, then, he falls, as I do. I have ventured, 
Like little wanton boys, that swim on bladders, 
This many summers, in a sea, of glory ; 



192 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

But, far, beyond my depth : my high-blown pride, 
At length, broke under me; and, now, has left me, 
Weary, and old, with service, to the mercy, 
Of a rude stream, that must, forever, hide me. 
Yain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye : 
I feel my heart, new, opened. Oh, how wretched, 
Is that poor man, that hangs, on princes' favors ! 
There is, betwixt that smile, we would aspire to, 
That sweet aspect, of princes, and their ruin, 
More pangs, and, fears, than wars, or women, have ; 
And, when he falls, he falls, like Lucifer, 
Never, to hope, again ! — 

Cromwell, I did not think, to shed a tear, 
In all my miseries ; but, thou, hast forced me, 
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. 
Let's, dry our eyes: and, thus far, hear me, Cromwell; 
And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, 
And, sleep, in dull, cold marble, where, no mention 
Of me, more, must be heard of, say, I taught thee, 
Say, Wolsey, that, once, trod the ways of glory, 
And, sounded all the depths, and, shoals, of honor, 
Found thee, a way, out of his wreck, to rise, in; 
A sure, and, safe, one, though thy master missed it. 
Mark, but, my fall, and that, that ruined me. 
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling, away, ambition ; 
By that sin, fell, the angels ; how, can man, then, 
The image of his maker, hope to win, by 't ? 
Love thyself, last : cherish those hearts, that hate thee; 
Corruption, wins not, more, than honesty. 
Still, in thy right hand, carry gentle peace, 
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : 
Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, 
Thy God's, and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Crom- 
well, 
Thou fall'st, a blessed martyr 



HENRY V. BEFORE IIARFLEUR. 193 



Henry V. before Harfleur. 

Onco more, unto the breach, dear friends ! once more, 

Or, close the wall up, with our English dead. 

In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man, 

As modest stillness, and humility. 

But, when the blast of war, blows in our ears, 

Then, imitate the action of the tiger : 

Sthfen the sinews, summon up the blood, 

Disguise fair nature, with hard-favored rage. 

Then, lend the eye, a terrible aspect; 

Let it pry, through the portage of the head, 

Like the brass cannon ; let the brow, o'er whelm it, 

As fearfully, as doth a galled rock, 

O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, 

Swilled, with the wild and wasteful ocean. 

ISfow set the teeth, and, stretch the nostril wide : 
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit, 
To his full height ! — On, on, you noble English, 
"Whose blood is fet, from fathers of war-proof! 
Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 
Have, in these parts, from morn, till even, fought, 
And, sheathed their swords, for lack of argument. 
Dishonor not your mothers. Now attest, 
That those, whom you called fathers, did beget you! 
Be copy now, to men of grosser blood, 
And teach them, how to war! — And you, good yeomen, 
Whose limbs, were made in England, show us here, 
The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear, 
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not; 
For there is none of you, so mean and base, 
That hath not noble lustre in his eyes. 
I see you stand, like greyhounds, in the slips, 
Straining upon the start. 

36 



194 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

The game's afoot; 
Follow your spirit ; and, upon this charge, 
Cry, God, for Harry ! England ! and St. George. 



The Fly and the Old Spider. 

Fresh was the breath of morn; the busy breeze, 
As poets tell us, whispered, through the trees, 

And, swept the dew-clad blooms, with wings so light, 
Phoebus, got up, and, made a blazing fire, 
That gilded, every country-house, and spire; 

And, smiling, put on, his best looks, so bright. 

On this fair morn, a spider, who had set, 
To catch a breakfast, his old waving net, 

With cautious art, upon a spangled thorn, 
At length, with gravely-squinting, longing eye, 
Near him, espied a pretty, plump, young fly, 

Humming her little orisons, to morn. 

" Good morrow, dear Miss Fly/' quoth, gallant Grim. — 
" Good morrow, sir/' replied Miss Fly, to him. 

" Walk in, miss, pray, and see what I'm about." 
" I'm much obliged t'ye, sir," Miss Fly, rejoined, 
" My eyes, are, both, so very good, I find, 

That I can, plainly, see the whole, without." 

"Fine weather, miss." "Yes, very fine," 
Quoth Miss; "prodigious fine, indeed!" 
"But, why so coy?" quoth Grim, "that you decline 
To put, within my bower, your pretty head?" 
"'Tis simply this," 
Quoth cautious Miss, 



HOPE. 195 

"I fear, you'd like my pretty head, so well, 
You'd keep it, for yourself, sir, — who can tell ?" 

" Then, let me squeeze your lovely hand, my dear, 
And, prove that, all your dread is foolish, vain." — 

"I've a sore finger, sir; nay more, I fear 
You, really, would not let it go, again." 

"Poh, poh, child, pray dismiss your idle dread; 
I would not, hurt a hair, of that sweet head — 

Well, then, with one sweet kiss, of friendship, meet 
me." 
"La, sir," quoth Miss, with seeming, artless, tongue, 
"I fear, our salutation, would be, long: 

So loving, too, I fear, that, you would eat me." 

So saying, with a smile she left the rogue, 

To weave more lines of death, and plan for prog. 



Hope. 

(Extract from Friendship's Offering.) 

In an antique, arm-chair, running upon wheels, placed 
on the broad flags, before the door of a most comfort- 
able dwelling, sat an aged farmer. Around him, were the 
evidences of agricultural wealth, spread out on every side ; 
but, many a summer, had swept over him, unnoted, since, 
at the allotted term of man's existence, he had looked 
back, upon seventy well spent years. Palsy, had seized 
his limbs, and the mind, slumbered, in the inactive brain. 
Twelve vernal suns, had seen him, daily; borne from his 
weary couch, into the open air, to breathe the perfume 
of the flowers, or, of the new-mown hay, that added 



196 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

vigor to a frame, powerless now, and motionless; incog- 
nizant alike of pain, or pleasure. Ever, by his side, 
anticipating wants, that could not be expressed, and, 
watching, anxiously, each change of feature, that spake 
variety of darkness, in that once noble soul, sat the 
sad partner of his hearth and heart, with still untiring 
love, that had outlasted half a century. Before him, 
was a field of waving grain ; and, over it, the sportive 
zephyrs, skimmed, and played, and swam, around the 
billows, raised by their own rustling wings. Beyond, a 
bright, green, belt of forest, stood out, in bold relief, 
against the western sky ; and, from beneath its shade, 
at intervals, when the breeze quickened, was heard, the 
rush of falling waters, and th$ whirring sound of wheels, 
at the old mill, hid in the wooded glen. He heard not 
this; sight, was his only sense; and, even that, awoke 
no fibre, of the mystic web of consciousness. Yet, the 
unwinking eye, fixed steadily upon the scene, seemed to 
drink in the varied light, as the parched soil, drinks in 
the dews of heaven, and asks not why it softens. 

A cloud, obscured the sun, for a few moments, which, 
when it passed away, shone forth the brighter, for the 
short eclipse, causing the drops, of a bright, summer, 
shower, that still continued falling, to shine, like 
diamonds, in the air; while every leaf, and blade of 
grass, was studded, with a multitude of irridescent gems. 
Then, once again, those more than sleeping lineaments, 
were roused to something like expression, and, a sound 
of laughter, stole through the parted lips. As it died 
away, a holy, heavenly, calmness, settled on the features, 
so exquisitely sweet, so mild, so innocent, and, so like the 
earliest beam of morning light, that, the very death 
mists, thickening around the old man's head, seemed 
tinged, by the approaching dawn, of an eternal day. 

Thine was the ministry, fond Hope, that woke, within 



THE BATTLE OF IVRY. 197 

that breathing tomb of thought, the memory of long for- 
gotten hours. And, what the dream ? He saw the tall 
beech-tree, that grow down by the brook, where, on a morn 
like this, he waited for a form of beauty, sixty years ago. 
Time was annihilated, and he sat, once more, beneath its 
shade. He knew not, that the tree, lay prone and leaf- 
less now ; that all its goodly branches, were decayed ; 
and the huge trunk, a home for insects, and a soil for 
mosses, fast mouldered into dust. He knew not, that the 
blooming forest girl, whose buoyant step, and eye, full, 
dark, and gentle, as that of the wild deer, first taught 
his heart to love, now, stood beside his chair, pale, tot- 
tering, and careworn, for his sake, with wrinkled brow, 
and shrivelled limbs, gray locks, and glance, all lustre- 
less. The log-built cottage, of other days, arose upon 
the hill. The Ellen of his youth, came, trippingly, down 
the narrow path, barefoot, and glorying in her woollen, 
trim neckerchief, and home-made petticoat. Now, she 
was winding through the girdled trees, grim, spectral, 
barkless, monsters, that sentinelled the half-cleared 
meadow; and now, she leaped the brook. He laughed! 
Had he not cause for joy ? The crumbling halls, of 
his soul's time-worn mansion, thrilled to thy stirring 
song — " One month, and she is mine." And, dare they 
call thee false? One month, and the young harvest 
moon, looked calmly down, upon a new-made grave. 
Two, weary, travellers, slept, in peace, below. 



The Battle of Ivry. 

Now, glory, to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories, 
are! 

And, glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry, of Na- 
varre ! 

30* 



198 EXEKCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Now, let there be, the merry sound, of music and the 
dance, 

Through thy corn-fields green, and sunny vales, O plea- 
sant land of France I 

And thou, Eochelle, our own Eochelle, proud city of the 
waters, 

Again let rapture, light the eyes, of all thy mourning 
daughters ; 

As thou wert constant, in our ills, be joyous, in our joy : 

For, cold, and stiff, and still, are they, who wrought thy 
walls, annoy. 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! a single field, hath turned the chance 
of war; 

Hurrah ! hurrah ! for Ivry, and King Henry of Na- 
varre! 

O, how our hearts, were beating, when, at the dawn of 
day, 

We saw the army, of the League, drawn out, in long 
array, 

With all its priest-led citizens, and all its rebel peers ; 

And Appenzel's stout infantry, and Egmont's Flemish 
spears ! 

There, rode the brood, of false Lorraine, the curses of 
our land ! 

And, dark Mayenne was in th£ midst, a truncheon in his 
hand; 

And, as we • looked on them, we thought of Seine's em- 
purpled flood, 

And good Coligni's hoary hair, all dabbled with his 
blood; 

And we cried, unto the living God, who rules the fate of 
war, 

To fight for His own holy Name, and Henry of Na- 
varre. 



THE BATTLE OF IVRY. 199 

The King, has como to marshal us, in all his armor 
drest, 

And, he has bound a snow-white plume, upon his gal- 
lant crest : 

He looked, upon his people, and a tear, was in his eye ; 

He looked, upon the traitors, and his glance, was stern 
and high. 

Eight graciously, he smiled on us, as rolled, from wing 
to wing, 

Down all our line, in deafening shout, " God save our 
lord, the King !" 

"And if my standard-bearer, fall, (as fall, full well he 
may, 

For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray,) 

Press, where, ye see my white plume shine, amid the 
ranks of war, 

And, be your oriflamme, to-day, the helmet of Na- 
varre." 

Hurrah! the foes are moving! Hark to the mingled 

din, 
Of fife, and steed, and trump, and drum, and roaring 

culverin ! 
The fiery Duke, is pricking fast, across St. Andre's 

plain, 
With all the hireling chivalry, of Guelders and Al- 

mayne. 
Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of 

France, 
Charge, for the golden lilies now; upon them, with the 

lance ! 
A thousand spurs, are striking deep, a thousand spears, 

in rest, 
A thousand knights, are pressing, close behind the snow- 
white crest, 



200 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

And, in they burst, and, on they rushed, while, like a 
guiding star, 

Amidst the thickest carnage, blazed the helmet of Na- 
varre. 

Now, God be praised, the day is ours ! Mayenne, hath 
turned his rein ; 

D'Aumale, hath cried for quarter; the Flemish Count, is 
slain; 

Their ranks, are breaking, like thin clouds, before a 
Biscay gale ; 

The field, is heaped, with bleeding steeds, and flags, and 
cloven mail : 

And, then, we thought on vengeance, and, all along our 
van, 

"Kemember St. Bartholomew!" was passed from man 
to man. 

But, out spake, gentle Henry, then, — "No Frenchman, 
is my foe ; 

Down, down, with every foreigner ! but let your breth- 
ren go." 

O ! was there ever, such a knight, in friendship or in war, 

As our sovereign lord, King Henry, the soldier of Na- 
varre ! 

Ho ! maidens of Vienna ! Ho ! matrons of Lucerne ! 
"Weep, weep, and rend your hair, for those, who never 

shall return ! 
Ho ! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, 
That Antwerp monks, may sing a mass, for thy poor 

spearmen's souls ! 
Ho ! gallant nobles of the League, look that your arms 

be bright ! 
Ho ! burghers of St. Genevieve, keep watch and ward 

to-night ! 



THE VILLAGE PREACHER. 201 

For, our God, hath crushed the tyrant, our God, hath 
raised the slave, 

And, mocked the counsel of the -wise, and the valor of 
the brave. 

Then glory, to His holy name, from whom all glories 
are! 

And, glory, to our sovereign lord, King Henry of Na- 
varre! 



The Village Preacher. 

Near yonder copse, where once, the garden smiled, 

And, still, where many a garden-flower, grows wild, 

There, where a few torn shrubs, the place, disclose, 

The village preacher's modest mansion, rose. 

A man, he was, to all the country dear, 

And, passing rich, with forty pounds, a year. 

Eemote from towns, he ran his godly race, 

Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place. 

Unskilful, he, to fawn, or seek for power, 

By doctrines, fashioned to the varying hour. 

Far other aims, his heart, had learned, to prize ; 

More bent, to raise the wretched, than to rise. 

His house, was known, to all the vagrant train; 

He chid their wanderings, but, relieved their pain. 

The long remembered beggar, was his guest, 

Whose beard, descending, swept his aged breast. 

The ruined spendthrift, now, no longer proud, 

Claimed kindred, there, and, had his claim, allowed. 

The broken soldier, kindly bid to stay, 

Sat, by his fire, and, talked the night, away. 

"Wept, o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow, done, 

Shouldered his crutch, and showed, how fields were won. 



202 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Pleased, with his guests, the good man, learned to glow, 

And, quite forgot their vices, in their woe. 

Careless, their merits, or their faults, to scan, 

His pity, gave, ere charity began. 

Thus, to relieve the wretched, was his pride; 

And, even his failings, leaned to virtue's side. 

But, in his duty, prompt, to every call, 

He watched, and wept, he prayed, and felt, for all. 

And, as a bird, each fond endearment, tries, 

To tempt its new-fledged offspring, to the skies, 

He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, 

Allured, to brighter worlds, and led the way. 

Beside the bed, where parting life, was laid, 

And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns, dismayed, 

The reverend champion, stood. At his control, 

Despair and anguish, fled the struggling soul. 

Comfort, came down, the trembling wretch, to raise, 

And, his last faltering accents, whispered praise. 

At church, with meek and unaffected grace, 

His looks, adorned the venerable place. 

Truth, from his lips, prevailed, with double sway, 

And fools, who came, to scoff, remained, to pray. 

The service past, around the pious man, 

With steady zeal, each honest rustic, ran. 

Even children, followed, with endearing wile, 

And, plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile. 

His ready smile, a parent's warmth, expressed; 

Their welfare, pleased him, and their cares, distressed. 

To them, his heart, his love, his griefs, were given, 

But, all his serious thoughts, had rest, in heaven. 

As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, 

Swells, from the vale, and, midway, leaves the storm, 

Though, round its breast, the rolling clouds, are spread, 

Eternal sunshine, settles, on its head. 



on the death of a favorite cat. 203 

On the Death of a Favorite Cat, drowned in a 
Tub of Goldfishes. 

'Twas, on a lofty vase's side, 
Where China's gayest art, had dyed, 

The azure flowers, that blow, 
Demurest of the tabby kind, 
The pensive Selima, reclined, 

Gazed on the lake, below. 

Her conscious tail, her joy, declared. 
The fair, round, face, and, snowy beard, 

The velvet of her paws, 
Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, 
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes, 

She saw; and, purred applause. 

Still, had she gazed, but, 'midst the tide, 
Two angel forms, were seen to glide, 

The genii, of the stream; 
Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue, 
Though richest purple, to the view, 

Betrayed a golden gleam. 

The hapless nymph, with wonder, saw 
A whisker, first, and then, a claw; 

With many an ardent wish, 
She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize. 
What female heart, can gold, despise ? 

What cat's, averse to fish? 

Presumptuous maid ! with looks intent, 
Again, she stretched, again, she bent; 
Nor knew the gulf, between. 



204 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

(Malignant Fate sat by and smiled) 
The slippery verge, her feet beguiled ; 
She tumbled, headlong, in. 

Eight times, emerging from the flood, 
She mewed, to every watery god, 

Some speedy aid, to send. 
No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirred ; 
Nor, cruel Tom, nor, Susan, heard; 

A favorite, has no friends. 

From hence, ye beauties, undeceived, 
Know, one false step, is ne'er retrieved, 

And be, with Caution, bold. 
Not all, that tempts your wandering eyes, 
And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; 

Nor, all that glisters, gold. 



To Adversity. 



Daughter of Jove, relentless power, 
Thou tamer, of the human breast, 

"Whose iron scourge, and torturing hour, 
The bad, affright, afflict, the best, 

Bound, in thy adamantine chain, 

The proud, are taught, to taste of pain , 

And, purple tyrants, vainly groan, 

With pangs unfelt before; unpitied, and alone. 

"When first, thy sire, to send on earth, 
Yirtue, his darling child, designed, 

To thee, he gave the heavenly birth, 
And bade, to form her infant mind. 



TO ADVERSITY. 205 

Stern rugged nurse! Thy rigid lore, 

With patienoe, many a year, she bore. 

What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know, 

And, from her own, she learned, to melt, at others' woe. 

Scared, at thy frown terrific, fly 

Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood ; 
Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy ; 

And leave us, leisure, to be good. 
Light they disperse, and with them, go 
The summer friend, the flattering foe. 
By vain Prosperity received, 

To her, they vow, again, their truth; and, are again, 
believed. 

Wisdom, in sable garb, arrayed, 

Immersed, in rapturous thought, profound, 

And Melancholy, silent maid 

With leaden eye, that loves the ground, 

Still, on thy solemn steps, attend; 

Warm Charity, the general friend, 

With Justice, to herself severe, 

And Pity, dropping, soft, the sadly pleasing tear. 

Oh ! gently, on thy suppliant's head, 

Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand. 
Not, in thy Gorgon terrors, clad, 

Not, circled, with the vengeful band, 
(As by the impious, thou art seen) 
With thundering voice, and threatening mien, 
With screaming Horror's funeral cry, 
Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty 

-Thy form benign, O goddess, wear ; 
Thy milder influence, impart ; 

37 



206 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Thy philosophic train, be there, 

To soften, not to wound, my heart. 
The generous spark, extinct, revive ; 
Teach me to love, and to forgive ; 
Exact, my own defects, to scan ; 
What others are, to feel, and know myself, a Man. 



The Battle-Field. 



" Arm, for the combat ! Our foemen advance ; 
Eush to the helmet, the sabre, and lance ; 
Spring to the saddle, and welcome the storm, 
Tamers of desert steeds. Form, brothers, form ! 
Little reck we, of the cause, or the end ; 
Ours, is to fight; and, let statesmen contend 
Which side, the dark claims of justice, belong. 
Strike, for our country, in right, or in wrong 
Hark ! how their bugle notes, shrill, wild, and high, 
Echo, around us, from mountain, to sky. 
Nearer, and nearer, and nearer, they come, 
With tramp of steed, and the roll of the drum. 
Who dare face such an army, as ours ? 
Steeled, by the north wind, its sinewy powers. 
Each one, is sworn to remain on the field, 
Victor or vanquished ; but, never to yield. 
Soon, shall the boast of the Southerner, fail, 
Trembling and chilled, by the touch of the gale. 
Dares he, to beard the fierce sons of the Don ? 
Lo, he is coming ! Then, on, brothers, on \" 

Such are the shouts, as the sun, rises high ; 
Cossack, and Muscovite, gathering nigh, 



THE BATTLE-FIELD. 207 

Frank, and Italian, all eager, for fray ; 
Far, gleam the lines, in their splendid array. 
Then, conies a pause j deep, breathless, and still ; 
Calm, sleep their shadows, on valley, and hill. 
Listen ! The boom of the foemen's first gun ! 
" Onward ! No rest, till the battle, is won I" 
Loud, roars the cannon's deep thunder, and, soon, 
Sounds, through the valley, the rattling platoon. 
Broad, o'er the field, with the gloom of the shroud, 
Sways, in wild billows, the sulphurous cloud. 
Then, come the groans, of the wounded, that bleed ; 
Then, comes the neigh, of the agonized steed. 
" Charge I" And they close, in the furious strife ; 
None, cry for quarter ; the game, is for life. 
Deadlier, the battle din, swells on the ear ; 
Clangs, the sharp sabre, and, crashes the spear; 
Desperately struggling, and panting for breath, 
Foe, grapples foe, in the vice-grip of death. 

Hark ! 'Tis an earthquake ! Though pale, without fear, 
Down, kneel the ranks, of the stern musketeer. 
Trembles, the firm ground, and eddies, the gloom, 
As the heavy armed cavalry, sweep to their doom. 
Onward, they come, and, each hoof-print, impressed 
On the grass of the plain, or the warrior's breast, 
Is a drain of the life-blood, of friend, or of foe. 
" Hurra for the onset ! What care we to know, 
Who falls for his country, if leaving his name, 
To be graven, on high, in the temple of Fame !" 

Prancing and dancing, as forward they spring, 
Horse-shoe, and sabre-sheath, merrily ring. 
Full, on the bayonet, glistening and bright, 
Plunges the troop, in a billow of light ; 



208 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Dashed, into spray, by the terrible shock, 
Back, roll their plumes, like the wave, from the rock ; 
Leaving, behind them, all strewn in their gore, 
Eider and horse, heaped, like weeds on the shore. 

Rallies the cuirassier ! Once, and again, 
That steel billow, breaks, on the echoing plain. 
Ha ! The line wavers ; the battle is won -, 
Muscovy, vanquished ; the slaughter, begun. 
Rushing and crushing, o'er dying and dead, 
Human, in courage, high tossing his head, 
Snorts, the proud war-horse, erecting his mane, 
As he dashes his hoof, in the face of the slain. 

Wildly, the shouts of the victors, arise, 

And, the reddening earth, marks the hues of the skies, 

As the sun, looks oblique, with a pitying glance, 

On the slaughter-gorged flight, of the eagles of France ; 

For, the laugh of a demon, is heard far away ; 

'Tis the howl of the snow-wolf, that welcomes his prey. 

Down sinks the sun, but, the victors are gone. 
"Fire the lone hamlet, to beacon them on." 
God, of my fathers, can this be proud man, 
Made in thy image, and lord of thy plan ? 
Patriot and sage, to whose rule, thou hast given 
Power, upon earth, and an heirdom, in heaven ? 
Creature, of reason, and monarch of thought ? 
Robbing himself, of the wealth, which he bought, 
At the price of lost Eden ? 

"Away with the dream ! 
On with the song ! and, be glory the theme ! 
Cowards, may cringe, at the sound of the knell, 
Tolled, for the lost, in the battle, that fell. 






THE BATTLE-FIELD. 209 

We, shall not yield, to the fear of the grave, 
Prizes that wait, on the deeds of the brave ; 
Booty and beauty, in life, and a name, 
Graven, on high, in the temple of Fame." 

Hither, thou hero, still armed for the fight, 
Coursing the field, in the stillness of night; 
Hither, thou tiger! Give ear to the tune, 
Glory, hymns forth, by the light of the moon. 
Trembles, thy charger, with Avide flowing mane ? 
Why threads he, so gently, the groups of the slain ? 
Why roll, his fierce eyeballs ? Why droops he, his head, 
As his nostrils expand, at the scent of the dead ? 
Unshrinking, this morning, his iron hoof, plashed, 
Fetlock deep, in the blood-pool, as onward he dashed. 
It was thine, then, not his, the wild fury, that bore 
Thy man-inspired brute, amid slaughter and gore. 
Ay! well may thy spear-point be weighed to the 

ground; 
Well saddens, thy visage, in gazing around ; 
In glory's embrace, to the wild dog, a prey, 
Lie thousands, her minions, at dawning of day. 
They lived, for her, died, for her. What are they now ? 
Shroudless, unnoted, the dew on their brow ; 
Where the long grass, their epitaph, proudly shall wave, 
With the next vernal sun, o'er the couch of the brave; 
And the ox, and the wild ass, in browsing, shall tell, 
Where rest, the high hearts, in the battle, that fell. 
Fond fool ! wouldst thou ask, for each victim, a name ? 
Go, search it, "on high, in the temple of Fame !" 

37* 



210 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



Lucy. 

Three years, she grew, in sun and shower 
Then, Nature, said, "A lovelier flower, 

On earth, was never sown ; 
This child, I, to myself, will take ; 
She shall be mine ; and, I will make 

A lady of my own. 

"Myself will, to my darling, be 
Both law and impulse ; and, with me, 

The girl, in rock and plain, 
In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, 
Shall feel an overseeing power, 

To kindle, or restrain. 

" She shall be sportive, as the fawn, 
That, wild with glee, across the lawn, 

Or, up the mountain, springs ; 
And hers, shall be, the breathing balm, 
And hers, the silence, and the calm, 

Of mute, insensate, things. 

" The floating clouds, their state, shall lend 
To her; for her, the willow, bend; 

Nor, shall she fail to see, 
Even in the motions of the storm, 
Grace, that shall mould the maiden's form 

By silent sympathy. 

" The stars of midnight, shall be dear 
To her; and, she shall lean her ear, 
In many a secret place, 



TO A cniLD. 211 

Where rivulets, dance their wayward round ; 
And beauty, born of murmuring sound, 
Shall pass, into her face. 



"And, vital feelings of delight, 
Shall rear her form to stately height ; 

Her virgin bosom, swell ; 
Such thoughts, to Lucy, I will give, 
While she and I, together, live, 

Here, in this happy dell." 

Thus, Nature spake ; the work, was done ; 
How soon, my Lucy's race, was run. 

She died \ and, left, to me, 
This heath, this calm and quiet scene ; * 
The memory, of what has been, 

And, never more, will be. 



To a Child. 

Whose imp, art thou ? with dimpled cheek, 
And curly pate, and merry eye, 

And arm and shoulder, round and sleek, 
And soft and fair ; thou urchin sly ! 

What boots it, who, with sweet caresses, 
First called thee, his ? or squire, or hind ? 

Since thou, in every wight, that passes, 
Dost now, a friendly playmato, find. 



212 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Thy downcast glances, grave, but cunning, 

As fringed eyelids, rise and fall, 
Thy shyness, swiftly, from me, running, 

Is infantile coquetry, all. 

But, far afield, thou hast not flown ; 

With mocks, and threats, half lisped, half spoken ; 
I feel thee, pulling, at my gown ; 

Of right good-will, thy simple token. 

And, thou must laugh, and wrestle too, 
A mimic warfare, with me, waging, 

To make, as wily lovers, do, 

Thy after kindness, more engaging. 

The wilding rose, sweet as thyself, 

And, new-cropped daisies, are thy treasure, 

I'd gladly, part with worldly pelf, 

To taste, again, thy youthful pleasure. 

But yet, for all thy merry look, 

Thy frisks and wiles, the time, is coming, 

When thou shalt sit, in cheerless nook, 
The weary spell, or hornbook, thumbing. 

Well, let it be ! Through weal or woe, 
Thou knowest not, now, thy future range ; 

Life, is a motley, shifting show; 

And thou, a thing of hope and change. 



DISCIPLINE. 213 



Mark Antony's Address to the Dead Body of 
CLesar. 

O, pardon me, thou picco of bleeding earth, 
That I am meek and gentle, with these butchers ! 
Thou art the ruins, of the noblest man, 
That ever lived, in the tide of times. 
Woe to the hand, that shed this costly blood ! 
Over thy wounds, now do I prophesy, 
Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips, 
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue, 
A curse, shall light, upon the limbs of men ; 
Domestic fury, and fierce civil strife, 
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy ; 
Blood and destruction, shall be so in use, 
And dreadful objects, so familiar, 
That mothers, shall but smile, when they behold 
Their infants, quartered by the hands of war ; 
All pity, choked with custom of fell deeds; 
And Caesar's spirit, raging for revenge, 
With Ate, by his side, come hot from hell, 
Shall, in these confines, with a monarch's voice, 
Cry, Havoc! and let slip the dogs of war! 



Discipline. 



In colleges, and halls, in ancient days, 
When learning, virtue, piety, and truth, 
Were precious, and inculcated with care, 
There dwelt a sage, called Discipline. His head, 
Not yet, by time, completely silvered o'er, 
Bespoke him, past the bounds, of freakish youth, 



214 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

But, strong for service, still, and unimpaired. 

His eye, was meek and gentle ; and a smile, 

Played on his lips ; and, in his speech, were heard, 

Paternal sweetness, dignity and love. 

The occupation, dearest to his heart, 

Was to encourage goodness. He would stroke 

The head, of modest and ingenious worth, 

That blushed at its own praise ; and, press the youth, 

Close to his side, that pleased him. Learning grew, 

Beneath his care, a thriving, vigorous, plant ; 

The mind, was well informed, the passions, held 

Subordinate, and diligence, was choice. 

If e'er it chanced, as, sometimes, chance it must, 

That one, among so many, overleaped 

The limits of control, his gentle eye, 

Grew stern, and darted a severe rebuke : 

His frown, was full of terror; and, his voice 

Shook the delinquent, with such fits of awe, 

As left him not, till penitence, had won 

Lost favor, back again, and closed the breach. 

But, Discipline, a faithful servant long, 

Declined, at length, into the vale of years : 

A palsy, struck his arm; his sparkling eye. 

Was quenched, in rheums of age ; his voice, unstrung, 

Grew tremulous, and moved derision, more 

Than reverence, in perverse, rebellious, youth. 

So, colleges and halls, neglected, much, 

Their good old friend ; and Discipline, at length, 

O'erlooked and unemployed, fell sick and died. 

Then, Study, languished, Emulation, slept, 

And Virtue, fled. The schools, became a scene, 

Of solemn farce, where Ignorance, in stilts, 

His cap, well lined with logic, not his own, 

With parrot tongue, performed the scholar's part; 

Proceeding, soon, a graduated dunce. 



POETRY OF THE BIBLE. 215 

Then compromise, had place, and scrutiny, 

Became stone blind j precedence, went, in truck ; 

And, he, was competent, whose purse, was so : 

A dissolution of all bonds, ensued ; 

The curbs, invented for the mulish mouth 

Of headstrong youth, were broken ; bars and bolts, 

Grew rusty by disuse ; and massy gates 

Forgot their office ; opening, with a touch ; 

Till gowns, at length, are found mere masquerade; 

The tasselled cap, and the spruce band, a jest, 

A mockery, of the world. What was learned, 

If aught was learned, in childhood, is forgot ; 

And, such expense, as pinches parents blue, 

And mortifies the liberal hand of love, 

Is squandered, in pursuit of idle sports, 

And vicious pleasures ; buys the boy, a name, 

That sits, a stigma on his father's house, 

And cleaves, through life, inseparably close, 

To him that wears it. 

Now, blame we most, the nurslings, or the nurse ? 

The children, crook'd, and twisted, and deformed, 

Through want of care, or her, whose winking eye, 

And slumbering oscitancy, mars the brood ? 

The nurse, no doubt. Eegardless of her charge, 

She needs, herself, correction ; needs to learn, 

That, it is dangerous sporting, with the world; 

With things, so sacred, as a nation's trust; 

The nurture of her youth ; her dearest pledge. 



Poetry of the Bible. 



When referring, in sec. 12th, of the first part, to the 
old dogma, that, in reading poetry, we must make a 



216 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

pause at the end of each line, or else we should convert 
the poetry into prose, I said, "We might, with pro- 
priety, ask the propagators of that rule, if they ever 
found any poetry, in their Bibles." Since the plates of 
the first part, have been cast, a friend, who has been 
reading the revised proofs, has suggested, that, pro- 
bably, many of the persons alluded to, would answer 
such question, in the negative. He was well persuaded, 
that there were many readers of the Bible, who had 
never found any poetry in that " book of books ;" and, 
he thought it probable, some of the prosodists, to whom I 
referred, might be among the number. He thought, 
therefore, that I ought to have, among my exercises, 
some specimens, of Bible poetry. I had, already, selected 
several such; but, I had not called them, poetical extracts. 
Before, I refer to them, specifically, I will refer, again, 
to the rule in question. Without pretending to give the 
exact words, it may be stated, as follows, viz. "A pause 
must be made, at the end of every line, in reading poetry ; 
because, if we omit that pause, we convert the poetry into 
prose." 

If this rule, and the reason for it, are based upon 
truth, then, the following lines, from Milton, being 
written, without regard to the number of syllables to 
a line, and read according to the punctuation, are not 
poetry, but, prose. " Speak, ye, who best can tell, ye, 
sons of light, angels! for, ye behold him, and, with 
songs and choral symphonies, day without night, circle 
his throne, rejoicing. Ye, in heaven; on earth, join, 
all ye creatures, to extol him, first, him, last, him, midst, 
and, without end." This passage, was written, by 
Milton, in what is called heroic verse, with ten syllables 
to a line. If read as written, and punctuated, above, 
the hearer, will fail to perceive where each tenth syl- 
lable comes ; and, therefore, it has ceased to be poetry. 



POETRY OF THE BIBLE. 217 

Docs any ono, and, especially, any one, who has suffi- 
cient intelligence to make verses, believe this ? If not, 
then, he does not believe in the rule. He does not be- 
lieve that, the omission of the pause, at the end of the 
line, converts poetry, into prose. 

If then, we are prepared to believe that the extract, 
above, being read according to the punctuation, is, in- 
deed, poetry, we shall scarcely fail to allow the name of 
poetry, to the following extract, from the 28th chapter 
of Job ; viz. " There is a path, which, no fowl knoweth, 
and, which, the vulture's eye, hath not seen ; the lion's 
whelps, have not trodden it, nor, the fierce lion, passed 
by it." 1 think that he, who has a true taste for poetry, 
will not fail to discover it, and that of a high order 
too, in the following passages, from the 15th chapter of 
Exodus; viz. "The Lord, is my strength and song; 
and, he is become my salvation. He is my God, and, I 
will prepare him an habitation ; my father's God, and, I 
will exalt him." 

" Who is like unto thee, O, Lord, among the Gods ? 
Who is, like Thee, glorious, in holiness, fearful, in praises, 
doing wonders V 

"The dukes of Edom, shall be amazed; the mighty 
men of Moab, trembling, shall take hold upon them ; all 
the inhabitants of Canaan, shall melt away." 

Again, where shall we find poetry more pleasing to 
the ear, and, at the same time, more sublime, than in 
many parts of Isaiah ? Take the following verse, from 
the 40th chapter, as an example ; viz. " Hast thou not 
known, hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, 
the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth 
not, neither is weary? There is no searching of his 
understanding." 

The psalms of David, are all, poetry ; and most of it of 
a high order; generally, much superior, in every respect, 

88 



218 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

as they stand in our standard translation of the Bible, to 
the best of the versifications of them. 

It is not, then, difficult to find excellent poetry, in the 
Bible ; and, it is not necessary to pause, at the end of a 
certain number of syllables, in reading poetry, unless 
the sense, requires such pauses. 



A Psalm of Life. 



Tell me not, in mournful numbers. 

Life, is but an empty dream ! 
For, the soul, is dead, that slumbers ; 

And things, are not, what they seem. 

Life, is real ! Life, is earnest ! 

But, the grave, is not its. goal ; 
Dust, thou art, to dust, returnest, 

Was not written, of the soul. 

Not enjoyment, and, not sorrow, 

Is our destined end and way ; 
But, to act, that each to-morrow, 

Finds us, farther, than to-day. 

Art, is long, and time, is fleeting ; 

And, our hearts, though stout and brave, 
Still, like muffled drums, are beating 

Funeral marches, to the grave. 

In the world's broad field of battle, 
In the bivouac of life, 



EARTHQUAKE IN CALABRIA IN THE YEAR 1G38. 219 

Bo not like, dumb, driven cattle ! 

Be a hero, in the strife ! 
t 
Trust not fortune, howe'er pleasant ! 

Let the dead Past, bury its dead ! 
Act ! — act, in the living Present ! 

Heart, within, and God, o'erhcad. 

Lives of great men, all remind us, 

We can make our lives sublime ; 
And, departing, leave behind us, 

Footsteps, on the sands of time; 

Footsteps, that, perhaps, another, 

Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 

Seeing, shall take heart again. 

Let us, then, be up and doing, 

"With a heart, for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 

Learn to labor, and to wait. 



Earthquake in Calabria in the Year 1638. 

An account of this dreadful earthquake, is given by 
the celebrated father Kircher. It happened whilst he 
was on his journey to visit Mount Etna, and the rest of 
the wonders, that lie towards the South of Italy. Kir- 
cher, is considered, by scholars, as one of the greatest 
prodigies of learning. 

"Having hired a boat, in company with four more, 



220 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

(two friars of the order of St. Francis, and two seculars,) 
we launched, from the harbor of Messina, in Sicily, and 
arrived, the same day, at the promontory of Pelorus. Our 
destination, was for the city of Euphsemia, in Calabria, 
where we had some business to transact, and, where we 
designed to tarry for some time. However, Provi- 
dence, seemed willing to cross our de'sign ; for, we were 
obliged to continue, three days at Pelorus, on account of 
the weather ; and, though we often put out to sea, yet 
we were, as often, driven back. At length, wearied 
with the delay, we resolved to prosecute our voyage ; 
and, although the sea, seemed more than usually agitated, 
we ventured forward. The gulf of Charybdis, which we 
approached, seemed whirled round, in such a manner, as 
to form a vast hollow, verging to a point in the centre. 
Proceeding onward, and turning my eyes to Etna, I saw 
it, cast forth large volumes of smoke, of mountainous 
sizes, which entirely covered the island, and blotted out 
the very shores, from my view. This, together with 
the dreadful noise, and the sulphurous stench, which was 
strongly perceived, filled me with apprehensions, that 
some more dreadful calamity was impending. The sea, 
itself, seemed to wear a very unusual appearance : they, 
who have seen a lake, in a violent shower of rain, covered 
all over with bubbles, will conceive some idea of its agi- 
tations. My surprise was still increased, by the calm- 
ness and serenity of the weather; not a breeze, not a 
cloud, which might be supposed, to put all nature, thus, 
into motion. I, therefore, warned my companions, that 
an earthquake was approaching; and, after some time, 
making for the shore with all possible diligence, we 
landed at Tropsea; happy and thankful, for having 
escaped the threatening dangers of the sea. 

" But, our triumphs, at land, were of short duration ; 
for, we had scarcely arrived at the Jesuits' College, in 






EARTHQUAKE IN CALABRIA IN THE YEAR 1G38. 221 

that city, when our cars, were stunned, with a horrid 
sound, resembling that of an infinite number of chariots, 
driven fiercely forward ; the wheols rattling, and the 
thongs cracking. Soon after this, a most dreadful earth- 
quake, ensued ; so that the whole tract, upon which we 
stood, seemed to vibrate, as if wo were in the scale of a 
balance, that continued wavering. This motion, however, 
soon grew more violent; and, being no longer able to keep 
my legs, I was thrown prostrate, upon the ground. In the 
mean time, the universal ruin, round me, redoubled my 
amazement. The crash of falling houses, the tottering 
of towers, and the groans of the dying, all, contributed 
to raise my terror and despair. On every side of me, I 
saw nothing but a scene of ruin ; and danger, threaten- 
ing, wherever I should fly. I recommended myself to 
God, as my last great refuge. At that hour, O how vain 
was every sublunary happiness ! Wealth, honor, em- 
pire, wisdom, all, mere useless sounds ; and as empty, as 
the bubbles of the deep ! Just standing, on the thresh- 
old of eternity, nothing but God, was my pleasure ; and 
the nearer I approached, I only loved him the more. 
After some time, however, finding that I remained un- 
hurt, amidst the general concussion, I resolved to ven- 
ture for safety; and, running as fast as I could, I reached 
the shore ; but, almost terrified out of my reason. I did 
not search long here, till I found the boat, in which I had 
landed, and, my companions also, whose terrors, were 
even greater than mine. Our meeting, was not of that 
kind, where every one, is desirous of telling his own, 
happy, escape ; it was all silence, and a gloomy dread, 
of impending terrors. 

" Leaving this seat of desolation, we prosecuted our 
voyage, along the coast; and, the next day, came to 
Eochetta, where w T e landed, although the earth, still con- 
tinued, in violent agitations. But, we had scarcely ar- 

38* 



222 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

rived, at our inn, when we were once more, obliged to 
return to the boat ; and, in about half an hour, we saw 
the greater part of the town, and the inn, at which we 
had set up, dashed to the ground, burying the inhabit- 
ants, beneath the ruins. 

"In this manner, proceeding onward, in our little ves- 
sel, finding no safety at land, and yet, from the smallness 
of our boat, having but a very dangerous continuance at 
sea, we at length landed at Lopizium; a castle, midway 
between Tropsea and Euphsemia ; the city, to which, as I 
said before, we were bound. Here, wherever I turned 
my eyes, nothing but scenes of ruin and horror, ap- 
peared; towns and castles, •levelled to the ground; 
Stromboli, though at sixty miles, distance, belching forth 
flames, in an unusual manner, and, with a noise, which I 
could distinctly hear. But my attention was quickly 
turned, from more remote, to contiguous danger. The 
rumbling sound of an approaching earthquake, which 
we, by this time, were grown acquainted with, alarmed 
us, for the consequences; it every moment seemed to 
grow, louder, and, to approach, nearer. The place on 
which we stood, now began to shake, most dreadfully : 
so that, being unable to stand, my companions and I 
caught hold of whatever shrub, grew next to us, and 
supported ourselves in that manner. 

" After some time, this violent paroxysm ceasing, we 
again stood up, in order to prosecute our voyage to Eu- 
phsemia, which lay, within sight. In the mean time, 
while we were preparing, for this purpose, I turned 
my eyes, towards the city, but, could see only a fright- 
ful, dark, cloud, that seemed to rest upon the place. 
This, the more surprised us, as the weather was so very 
serene. We waited, therefore, till the cloud had passed 
away : then, turning to look for the city, it was totally 
sunk. Wonderful to tell ! nothing but a dismal and 



CREATION REQUIRED TO PRAISE ITS AUTIIOR. 223 

putrid lake, was seen, where it stood. Such was the 
fate of the city of Euphsemia. As we continued our 
melancholy course, along the shore, the whole coast, for 
the space of two hundred miles, presented nothing but 
the remains of cities, and men, scattered, without a habi- 
tation, over the fields. Proceeding, thus, along, we, at 
length, ended our distressful voyage, by arriving at 
Naples ; after having escaped a thousand dangers, both 
at sea, and land." 



The Creation Kequired to Praise its Author. 

Begin, my soul, the exalted lay ! 
Let each enraptured thought, obey, 

And praise the Almighty's name : 
Lo ! heaven and earth, and seas, and skies, 
In one melodious concert, rise, 

To swell the inspiring theme. 

Ye fields of light, celestial plains, 
Where gay, transporting, beauty, reigns, 

Ye scenes divinely fair ! 
Your Maker's wondrous power, proclaim; 
Tell how, he formed your shining frame, 

And breathed the fluid air. 

Ye angels, catch the thrilling sound ! 
While, all the adoring thrones around, 

His boundless mercy sing; 
Let every listening saint, above, 
Wake all the tuneful soul of love, 

And touch the sweetest string. 



224 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Join, ye loud spheres, the vocal choir ; 
Thou dazzling orb, of liquid fire, 

The mighty chorus aid : 
Soon, as gray evening, gilds the plain, 
Thou, moon, protract the melting strain, 

And praise him, in the shade. 

Thou heaven of heavens, his vast abode, 
Ye clouds, proclaim your forming God, 

"Who called yon worlds from night : 
" Ye shades, dispel V* — the Eternal said ; 
At once, the involving darkness, fled, 

And nature, sprung to light. 

"Whatever a blooming world contains, 
That wings the air, that skims the plains, 

United praise, bestow : 
Ye dragons, sound his awful name, 
To heaven aloud ; and, roar acclaim, 

Ye swelling deeps, below. 

Let every element rejoice; 

Ye thunders, burst, with awful voice, 

To Him, who bids you roll : 
His praise, in softer notes, declare, 
Each whispering breeze, of yielding air, 

And breathe it to the soul. 

To him, ye grateful cedars, bow ; 
Ye towering mountains, bending low, 

Your great Creator, own ; 
Tell, when affrighted nature shook, 
How Sinai, kindled, at his look, 

And trembled, at his frown. 



CREATION REQUIRED TO PRAISE ITS AUTIIOR. 225 

Ye flocks, that haunt the humble vale, 
Ye insects, fluttering on the gale, 

In mutual concourse, rise ; 
Crop the gay rose's vermeil bloom, 
And waft its spoils, a sweet perfume, 

In incense to the skies. 



Wake, all ye mounting tribes, and sing ; 
Ye plumy warblers of the spring, 

Harmonious anthems raise, 
To Him, who shaped your finer mould, 
Who tipped your glittering wings, with gold, 

And, tuned your voice, to praise. 

Let man, by nobler passions swayed, 
The feeling heart, the judging head, 

In heavenly praise, employ; 
Spread his tremendous name around, 
Till heaven's broad arch, rings back the sound; 

The general burst of joy. 

Ye, whom the charms, of grandeur, please, 
Nursed, on the downy lap of ease, 

Fall prostrate, at his throne : 
Ye princes, rulers, all adore ; 
Praise him, ye kings, who makes your power 

An image of his own. 

Ye fair, by nature, formed to move, 
O, praise the eternal Source of love, 

With youth's enlivening fire : 
Let age, take up the tuneful lay, 
Sigh his blessed name — then soar away, 

And, ask an angel's lyre. 



226 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



An Eminent Instance of True Fortitude. 

All, who have been distinguished, as servants of God, 
or benefactors of men, all, who, in perilous situations, 
have acted their part, with such honor, as to render 
their names illustrious, through succeeding ages, have 
been eminent, for fortitude of mind. Of this, we have 
one conspicuous example, in the Apostle Paul; whom, it 
will be instructive for us, to view, in a remarkable oc- 
currence of his life. After having long acted, as the 
apostle of the Gentiles, his mission, called him to go to 
Jerusalem; where, he knew, that he was to encounter 
the utmost violence of his enemies. Just before he set 
sail, he called together the elders of his favorite church, 
at Ephesus, and, in a pathetic speech, which does great 
honor to his character, gave them his last farewell. 
Deeply affected, by their knowledge of the certain dan- 
gers, to which he was exposing himself, all the assem- 
bly, were filled with distress; and melted into tears. 
The circumstances, were such, as might have conveyed 
dejection, even into a resolute mind; and, would have 
totally overwhelmed the feeble. "They all wept sore, 
and fell, on Paul's neck, and kissed him; sorrowing, 
most of all, for the words which he spoke, that they 
should see his face, no more." What were, then, the 
sentiments, what was the language, of this great, and 
good, man ? Hear the words, which spoke his ftrm and 
undaunted mind. " Behold, I go, bound in the spirit, to 
Jerusalem; not knowing the things, that shall befall me 
there ; save that, the Holy Spirit, witnesseth, in every 
city, saying, that bonds and afflictions, abide me. But, 
none of these things move me; neither count I my life, 
dear to myself, so that I might finish my course, with 
joy, and the ministry, which I have received, of the 



THE CUCKOO. 227 

Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel, of the grace of God." 
There, was uttered, tho voice, there, breathed the spirit, 
of a brave, and a virtuous, man. Such a man, knows not 
what it is, to shrink from danger, when conscience, 
points out his path. In that path, he is determined to 
walk, let tho consequences, bo what they may. 

This, was tho magnanimous behavior, of that great 
apostle, when he had persecution, and distress, full in 
view. Attend now, to tho sentiments of the same ex- 
cellent man, when the time of his last suffering, ap- 
proached; and remark the majesty, and the ease, with 
which he looked on death. "I am now, ready to bo 
offered; and, the time of my departure, is at hand. I 
have fought the good fight. I have finished my course. 
I have kept the faith. Henceforth, there is laid up, for 
me, a crown of righteousness." How many years of 
life, does such a dying moment, overbalance! "Who 
would not choose, in this manner, to go off the stage, 
with such a song of triumph in his mouth, rather than 
prolong his existence, through a wretched old age, 
stained with sin and shame? 



The Cuckoo. 

Hail, beauteous stranger of the wood, 

Attendant on the spring ! 
How, heaven repairs thy rural seat, 

And woods, thy welcome, sing. 

Soon as the daisy, decks the green, 
Thy certain voice, we hear : 

Hast thou a star, to guide thy path, 
Or mark the rolling year ? 



228 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Delightful visitant ! with thee, 

I hail the time of flowers, 
When heaven, is filled, with music sweet, 

Of birds, among the bowers. 

The school-boy, wandering in the wood, 
To pull the flowers, so gay, 

Starts, thy curious voice to hear, 
And imitates thy lay. 

Soon as the pea, puts on the bloom, 
Thou flyest the vocal vale ; 

An annual guest, in other lands, 
Another spring, to hail. 

Sweet bird ! thy bower, is ever green ; 

Thy sky, is ever clear; 
Thou hast no sorrow, in thy song, 

No winter, in thy year ! 

O, could I fly, I'd fly with thee; 

We'd make, with social wing, 
Our annual visit, o'er the globe, 

Companions of the spring. 



The Good Man's Comfort in Affliction. 

The religion of Christ, not only arms us with fortitude, 
against the approach of evil, but, supposing evils to fall 
upon us, with their heaviest pressure, it lightens the 
load, by many consolations, to which others are stran- 
gers. While bad men, trace, in the calamities, with 
which they are visited, the hand of an offended sovereign, 
Christians, are taught to view them, as the well-intended 
chastisements, of a merciful Father. They hear, amidst 



THE CLOSE OF LIFE. 229 

them, that still voice, which a good conscience, brings to 
their ear: "Fear not, for, I am with thee; bo not dis- 
mayed, for, I am thy God." They apply, to themselves, 
the comfortable promises, with which the gospel abounds. 
They discover, in these, the happy issue, decreed to their 
troubles; and, wait, with patience, till Providence, shall 
have accomplished its great, and good, designs. In the 
mean time, Devotion, opens, to them, its blessed and 
holy sanctuary : that sanctuary, in which the wounded 
heart, is healed, and the weary mind, is at rest; where 
the cares of the world, are forgotten ; where its tumults, 
are hushed, and, its miseries, disappear; where greater 
objects, open, to our view, than any, which the world 
presents; where a more serene sky, shines, and, a 
sweeter and calmer light, beams on the afflicted heart. 
In these moments of devotion, a pious man, pouring out 
his wants and sorrows, to an Almighty Supporter, feels 
that he is not left solitary and forsaken, in a vale of woe. 
God is with him; Christ, and the Holy Spirit, are with 
him; and, though he should be bereaved of every friend, 
on earth, he can look up, in heaven, to a friend, that 
will never desert him. 



The Close of Life. 



When we contemplate the close of life, the termination 
of man's designs and hopes, the silence, that now reigns 
among those, who, a little while ago, were so busy, or so 
gay, who can avoid being touched, with sensations, at 
once awful, and tender ? What heart, but, then warms, 
with the glow of humanity ? In whose eye, does not the 
tear gather, on revolving the fate, of passing, and short- 
lived, man ? 

39 



230 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

Behold the poor man, who lays down, at last, the bur- 
den of his wearisome life. No more, shall he groan, 
under the load of poverty and toil. No more, shall he 
hear the insolent calls of the master, from whom, he 
received his scanty wages. No more, shall he be raised, 
from needful slumber, on his bed of straw, nor, be hur- 
ried away, from his homely meal, to undergo the repeated 
labors of the day. While his humble grave, is preparing, 
and a few poor, and decayed, neighbors, are carrying 
him thither, it is good, for us to think, that this man, 
too, was our brother ; that, for him, the aged ?,nd desti- 
tute wife, and the needy children, now weep; that, 
neglected as he was by the world, he possessed, perhaps, 
both a sound understanding, and a worthy heart ; and, 
is now carried, by angels, to rest, in Abraham's bosom. 
At no great distance from him, the grave is opened, to 
receive the rich and proud man. For, as it is said, with 
emphasis, in the parable, "the rich man, also, died, 
and was buried." He also died. His riches, prevented 
not his sharing the same fate, with the poor man ; per- 
haps, through luxury, they accelerated his doom. Then, 
indeed, "the mourners go about the streets ;" and, while, 
in all the pomp and magnificence of woe, his funeral, is 
preparing, his heirs, impatient to examine his will, are 
looking on one another, with jealous eyes, and, already, 
beginning to dispute, about the division of his substance. 
One day, we see carried along, the coffin of the smiling 
infant; the flower, just nipped, as it began to blossom, 
in the parent's view : and the next day, we behold the 
young man, or young woman, of blooming form and 
promising hopes, laid in an untimely grave. While the 
funeral is attended, by a numerous, unconcerned, com- 
pany, who are discoursing, to one another, about the 
news of the day, or the ordinary affairs of life, let our 
thoughts, rather, follow the house of mourning; and, 



TIIE CLOSE OF LIFE. 231 

represent, to themselves, what is passing there. There, 
we should see a disconsolate family, sitting in silent 
grief, thinking of the sad breach, that is made in their 
little society; and, with tears in their eyes, looking to 
the chamber, that is now left vacant, and to every me- 
morial, that presents itself, of their departed friend. 
By such attention to the woes of others, the selfish 
hardness of our hearts, will be, gradually, softened, and 
melted down, into humanity. 

Another day, we follow, to the grave, one who, in old 
age, and, after a long career of life, has, in full maturity, 
sunk, at last, into rest. As we are going along, to the 
mansion of the dead, it is natural for us, to think, and 
to discourse, of all the changes, which such a person, has 
seen, during the course of his life. He has passed, it is 
likely, through varieties of fortune. He has experienced 
prosperity, and adversity. He has seen families, and 
kindreds, rise and fall. He has seen peace, and war, 
succeeding in their turns ; the face of his country, under- 
going many alterations; and, the very city, in which 
he dwelt, rising, in a manner, new around him. After 
all he has beheld, his eyes, are now closed, for ever. 
He was becoming a stranger, in the midst of a new suc- 
cession of men. A race, who knew him not, had arisen 
to fill the earth. Thus passes, the world, away. 
Throughout all ranks and conditions, "one generation 
passeth, and another generation cometh;" and, this 
great inn, is, by turns, evacuated, and replenished, by 
troops of succeeding pilgrims. O vain and inconstant 
world ! O fleeting and transient life ! When will the 
sons of men, learn to think of thee, as they ought? 
When will they learn humanity, from the afflictions of 
their brethren? or, moderation and wisdom, from the 
sense of their own fugitive state ? 



232 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



An Address to the Deity. 

O thou ! whose balance, does the mountains weigh ; 
Whose will, the wild tumultuous seas obey; 
Whose breath, can turn those watery worlds to flame, 
That flame to tempest, and, that tempest, tame ; 
Earth's meanest son, all trembling, prostrate falls, 
And on the boundless of thy goodness calls. 

O ! give the winds, all past offence, to ^weep, - 
To scatter wide, or bury in the deep. 
Thy power, my weakness, may I ever see, 
And, wholly dedicate my soul to thee. 
Eeign o'er my will ; my passions, ebb and flow, 
At thy command, nor human motive know ! 
If anger boil, let anger be my praise ; 
And sin, the graceful indignation raise. 
My love, be warm, to succor the distressed, 
And lift the burden, from the soul oppressed. 
O may my understanding, ever read 
This glorious volume which thy wisdom made ! 
May sea and land, and earth and heaven, be joined, 
To bring the eternal Author, to my mind ! 
When oceans roar, or awful thunders roll, 
May thoughts of thy dread vengeance, shake my soul ! 
When earth's in bloom, or planets proudly shine, 
Adore, my heart, the Majesty divine ! 

Grant I may ever, at the morning ray, 
Open, with prayer, the consecrated day; 
Tune thy great praise, and bid my soul arise, 
And, with the mounting sun, ascend the skies ; 
As that advances, let my zeal improve, 
And glow, with ardor of consummate love ; 
ISTor cease, at eve, but, with the setting sun, 
My endless worship, shall be still begun. 



AN ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. 233 

And oh ! permit the gloom of solemn night, 
To sacred thought, may forcibly invite. 
When this world's shut, and awful planets rise, 
Call on our minds, and raise them to tho skies ; 
Compose our souls, with a less dazzling sight, 
And show all nature, in a milder light ; 
How every, boisterous, thought, in calm, subsides ! 
How the smoothed spirit, into goodness glides ! 
Oh how divine ! to tread the milky way, 
To the bright palace, of the Lord of Day; 
His court admire, or, for his favor sue, 
Or, leagues of friendship, with his saints, renew : 
Pleased to look down, and see the world asleep; 
"While I, long vigils, to its Founder, keep ! 

Canst thou not shake the centre ? Oh control, 
Subdue, by force, the rebel in my soul ; 
Thou, who canst still the raging of the flood, 
Eestrain the various tumults of my blood ; 
Teach me, with equal firmness, to sustain 
Alluring pleasure, and assaulting pain. 
O may I pant for thee, in each desire ! 
And, with strong faith, foment the holy fire ! 
Stretch out my soul in hope, and grasp the prize. 
Which, in eternity's deep bosom, lies ! 
At the great day of recompense, behold, 
Devoid of fear, the fatal book unfold ! 
Then, wafted upward, to the blissful seat, 
From age to age, my grateful song, repeat ; 
My Light, my Life, my God, my Saviour see, 
And rival angels, in the praise of thee ! 

39* 



234 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



On Disinterested Friendship. 

I am informed, that certain Greek writers, (philoso- 
phers, it seems, in the opinion of their countrymen) 
have advanced some very extraordinary positions, re- 
lating to friendship; as, indeed, what subject is there, 
which these, subtle, geniuses, have not tortured, with 
their sophistry? 

The authors, to whom I refer, dissuade their disciples, 
from entering into any strong attachments, as unavoid- 
ably creating supernumerary disquietudes, to those, 
who engage in them; and, as every man has more than 
sufficient, to call forth his solicitude, in the course of his 
own affairs, it is a weakness, they contend, anxiously to 
involve himself, in the concerns of others. They recom- 
mend it, also, in all connections of this kind, to hold the 
bands of union, extremely loose ; so as, always, to have 
it in one's power, to straiten, or relax them, as circum- 
stances, and situations, shall render most expedient. 
They add, as a capital article of their doctrine, that, 
"to live exempt from cares, is an essential ingredient, 
to constitute human happiness ; but, an ingredient, how- 
ever, which he, who voluntarily distresses himself, with 
cares, in which he has no necessary, and personal, in- 
terest, must never hope to possess." 

I have been told, likewise, that there is another set 
of pretended philosophers, of the same country, whose 
tenets, concerning this subject, are of a still more illiberal 
and ungenerous cast. 

The proposition, they, attempt to establish, is, that 
"friendship, is an affair of self-interest, entirely; and 
that, the proper motive, for engaging in it, is, not in 
order to gratify the kind and benevolent affections, but, 
for the benefit of that assistance and support, which are 



ON DISINTERESTED FRIENDSHIP. 235 

to bo derived from the connection." Accordingly, they 
assert, that those persons, are most disposed, to have 
recourse to auxiliary alliances of this kind, who are least 
qualified, by nature, or fortune, to depend upon their 
own strength and powers ; the weaker sex, for instance, 
being, generally, more inclined to engago in friendships, 
than the male part of our species ; and those who are 
depressed by indigence, or laboring under misfortunes, 
than the wealthy, and the prosperous. 

Excellent and obliging sages, these, undoubtedly! To 
strike out the friendly affections, from the moral, world, 
would be, like extinguishing the sun, in the natural; 
each of them, being the source of the best, and most 
grateful, satisfactions, that Heaven has conferred, on 
the sons of men. But, I should be glad to know, what 
the real value, of this boasted exemption from care, 
which they promise their disciples, justly, amounts to ; 
an exemption, flattering to self-love, I confess; but, 
which, upon many occurrences, in human life, should 
be rejected, with the utmost disdain. For, nothing, 
surely, can be more inconsistent, with a well-poised and 
manly spirit, than to decline engaging, in any laudable 
action, or, to be discouraged, from persevering in it, by 
an apprehension of the trouble, and solicitude, with 
which it may, probably, be attended. Virtue herself, 
indeed, ought to be totally renounced, if it be right, to 
avoid every possible means, that may be productive of 
uneasiness; for, who, that is actuated by her principles, 
can observe the conduct, of an opposite character, with- 
out being affected, with some degree of secret dissatis- 
faction? Are not the just, the brave, and the good, 
necessarily exposed, to the disagreeable emotions of dis- 
like, and aversion, when they, respectively, meet with 
instances of fraud, of cowardice, or of villany ? It is an 
essential property, of every well-constituted mind, to be 



236 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

affected with pain, or pleasure, according to the nature 
of those moral appearances, that present themselves to 
observation. 

If sensibility, therefore, be not incompatible, with 
true wisdom, (and it surely is not, unless we suppose 
that philosophy, deadens every finer feeling of our 
nature,) what just reason, can be assigned, why the 
sympathetic sufferings, which may result from friend- 
ship, should be a sufficient inducement, for banishing 
that generous affection, from the human breast ? Extin- 
guish all emotions of the heart, and, what difference will 
remain, I do not say between man, and brute, but, be- 
tween man, and a mere inanimate clod ? Away, then, 
with those austere philosophers, who represent virtue, 
as hardening the soul, against all the softer impressions 
of humanity : the fact, certainly, is much otherwise. A 
truly good man, is, upon many occasions, extremely 
susceptible of tender sentiments; and, his heart, ex- 
pands with joy, or shrinks with sorrow, as good, or ill, 
fortune, accompanies his friend. Upon the whole, then, 
it may fairly be concluded, that, as in the case of virtue, 
so in that of friendship, those painful sensations, which 
may, sometimes, be produced by the one, as well as by 
the other, are equally insufficient grounds, for excluding 
either of them, from taking possession of our bosoms. 

They, who insist that "utility is the first and prevail- 
ing motive, which induces mankind to enter, into par- 
ticular friendships," appear to me, to divest the associa- 
tion, of its most amiable and engaging principle. For 
to a mind, rightly disposed, it is not so much the benefits 
received, as the affectionate zeal, from which they flow, 
that gives them, their best and most valuable recom- 
mendation. It is so far indeed from being verified by 
fact, that a sense of our wants, is the original cause of 
forming these amicable alliances, that, on the contrary, 



QUAKERISM. 237 

it is observable, that none, have been more distin- 
guished, in their friendships, than those, whose power 
and opulence, but, above all, whoso superior virtue, 
(a much firmer support,) have raised them, above 
every necessity, of having recourse to the assistance 
of others. 

The true distinction, then, in this question, is, that, 
" although friendship, is certainly productive of utility, 
yet, utility, is not the primary motive of friendship." 
Those selfish sensualists, therefore, who, lulled in the 
lap of luxury, presume to maintain the reverse, have 
surely no claim to attention ; as they are neither quali- 
fied, by reflection, nor experience, to be competent 
judges of the subject. 

Is there a man, upon the face of the earth, who 
would, deliberately, accept of all the wealth, and all the 
affluence this world, can bestow, if offered to him, upon 
the severe terms, of his being unconnected, with a 
single mortal, whom he could love, or, by whom, he 
should be beloved ? This would be, to lead the wretched 
life of a detested tyrant; who, amidst perpetual suspi- 
cions and alarms, passes his miserable days, a stranger 
to every tender sentiment ; and, utterly precluded, from 
the heartfelt satisfactions of friendship. 



Quakerism. 

The rise of the people, called Quakers, is one of the 
memorable events, in the history of man. It marks 
the moment, when intellectual freedom, was claimed, 
unconditionally, by the people, as an inalienable birth- 
right. To the masses, in that age, all reflection, on 



238 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

politics and morals, presented itself under a theological 
form. The Quaker doctrine, is philosophy, summoned 
from the cloister, the college, and the saloon, and 
planted, among the most despised of the people. 

As poetry, is older than critics, so, philosophy, is older 
than metaphysicians. The mysterious question, of the 
purpose of our being,, is always before us, and, within 
us; and the little child, as it begins to prattle, makes 
inquiries, which the pride of learning, cannot solve. 
The method of the solution, adopted by the Quakers, 
was the natural consequence, of the origin of their sect. 
The mind of George Fox, had the highest systematic 
sagacity; and, his doctrine, developed and rendered 
illustrious by Barclay and Penn, was distinguished by 
its simplicity and unity. The Quaker, has but one word, 
the inner light, the voice of God in the soul. That 
light, is a reality; and, therefore, in its freedom, the 
highest revelation of truth; it is kindred with the Spirit 
of God ; and, therefore, merits dominion, as the guide to 
virtue ; it shines, in every man's breast ; and, therefore, 
joins the whole human race, in the unity of equal rights. 
Intellectual freedom, the supremacy of mind, universal 
enfranchisement ; these, three, points, include the whole 
of Quakerism, so far as it belongs to civil history. 

Quakerism, rests, on the reality of the Inner Light; 
and, its method of inquiry, is absolute freedom, applied 
to consciousness. The revelation of truth, is imme- 
diate. It springs, neither from tradition, nor from the 
senses, but, directly, from the mind. No man, comes to 
the knowledge of God, but, by the Spirit. " Each per- 
son/' says Penn, " knows God, from an infallible 
demonstration in himself; and, not on the slender 
grounds of men's lo-here interpretations, or lo-there." — 
" The instinct of a Deity, is so natural to man, that he 
can, no more, be without it, and be, than he can be 



QUAKERISM. 239 

without the most essential part of himself." As the 
eye opens, light enters; and, the mind, as it looks in 
upon itself, receives moral truth, by intuition. Others, 
have sought wisdom, by consulting the outward world ; 
and, confounding consciousness, with reflection, have 
trusted, solely, to the senses, for the materials of thought; 
the Quaker, placing no dependence on the world of the 
senses, calls the soul home, from its wanderings, through 
the mazes of tradition, and the wonders of the visible 
universe, bidding the vagrant, sit down, by its own fires, 
to read the divine inscription on the heart. "Some, 
seek truth, in books ; some, in learned men ; but, what 
they seek for, is in themselves." — "Man is an epitome 
of the world ; and, to be learned in it, we have only to 
read ourselves, well." 

Thus the method of the Quaker, coincided with that 
of Descartes, and his disciples, who founded their 
system, on consciousness; and, made the human mind, 
the point of departure, in philosophy. But, Descartes, 
plunged, immediately, into the confusion of hypothesis; 
drifting to sea, to be wrecked, among the barren waves 
of ontological speculation ; and, even Leibnitz, con- 
fident in his genius and learning, lost his way among 
the monads of creation, and the pre-established harmo- 
nies, in this best of all possible worlds; the illiterate 
Quaker, adhered, strictly, to his method; like the timid 
navigators of old time, who carefully kept near the 
shore, he never ventured to sea, except with the certain 
guidance, of the cynosure in the heart. He was con- 
sistent, for he set no value on learning, acquired in any 
other way. Tradition, cannot enjoin a ceremony ; still 
less, establish a doctrine ; historical faith, is as the old 
heavens, that are to be wrapped up as a scroll. 

The constant standard of truth and goodness, says 
William Penn, is God, in the conscience ; and, liberty of 



240 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

conscience, is, therefore, the most sacred right, and the 
only avenue to religion. To restrain it, is an invasion 
of the divine prerogative. It robs man, of the use of 
the instinct of a Deity. To take away, the great charter, 
of freedom of conscience, is to prevent the progress of 
society; or, rather, as the beneficent course of Provi- 
dence, cannot be checked, it is, in men of the present 
generation, but knotting a whipcord, to lash their own 
posterity. The selfishness of bigotry, is the same in 
every age ; the persecutors, of to-day, do not differ, from 
those who inflamed the people of Athens, to demand the 
death of Socrates ; and the Quaker champions, of free- 
dom of mind, would never shrink from its exercise, 
through fear of prisons, or martyrdom. 



Apostrophe to Greece. 

And yet, how lovely, in thine age of woe, 
Land of lost gods, and godlike men, art thou ! 
Thy vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow, 
Proclaim thee, Nature's varied favorite, now; 
Thy fanes, thy temples, to thy surface, bow, 
Commingling, slowly, with heroic earth, 
Broke, by the share, of every rustic plough : 
So, perish monuments, of mortal birth ; 
So, perish all, in turn, save well-recorded Worth; 

Save, where some solitary column mourns, 
Above its prostrate brethren, of the cave; 
Save, where Tritonia's airy shrine, adorns 
Colonna's cliff, and gleams along the wave; 



APOSTROPHE TO GREECE. 241 

Save o'er some warrior's half-forgotten grave, 
Where the gray stones, and unmolested grass, 
Ages, but not oblivion, feebly brave, 
While strangers, only, not regardless pass, 
Lingering like me, perchance, to gaze, and sigh "Alas V 

Yet, are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild; 
Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields, 
Thine olivo, ripe, as when Minerva, smiled ; 
And still, his honeyed wealth, Hymettus yields; 
There the blithe bee, his fragrant fortress, builds, 
The free-born wanderer, of thy mountain-air; 
Apollo, still, thy long, long summer gilds ; 
• Still, in his beam, Mendeli's marbles glare; 
Art, Glory, Freedom, fail; but, Nature, still is fair. 

Where'er we tread, 'tis haunted, holy, ground ; 
No earth of thine, is lost, in vulgar mould; 
But, one vast realm of wonder, spreads around, 
And all the Muse's tales, seem truly told, 
Till the sense, aches, with gazing, to behold 
The scenes, our earliest dreams have dwelt upon : 
Each hill, and dale, each deepening glen, and wold, 
Defies the power, which crushed thy temples gone : 
Age, shakes Athena's tower, but, spares gray Marathon. 

The sun, the soil, but not the slave, the same; 
Unchanged in all, except its foreign lord, 
Preserves alike its bounds and boundless fame ; 
The battle-field, where Persia's victim horde, 
First bowed, beneath the brunt of Hellas' sword, 
As on the morn, to distant Glory dear, 
When Marathon, became a magic word ; 
Which, uttered, to the hearer's eye, appear, 
The camp, the host, the fight, the conqueror's career. 

40 



242 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow; 
The fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear; 
Mountains above, Earth's, Ocean's, plain, below; 
Death in the front, Destruction in the rear ! 
Such was the scene; what now, remaineth here? 
"What sacred trophy, marks the hallowed ground, 
Eecording Freedom's smile, and Asia's tear? 
The rifled urn, the violated mound, 
The dust, thy courser's hoof, rude stranger! spurns 
around. 

. Yet, to the remnants of thy splendor past, 
Shall pilgrims, pensive, but unwearied, throng; 
Long shall the voyager, with the Ionian blast, 
Hail the bright clime, of battle, and of song; 
Long shall thine annals, and immortal tongue, 
Fill, with thy fame, the youth of many a shore; 
Boast of the aged ! lesson of the young ! 
Which sages, venerate, and bards, adore, 

As Pallas, and the Muse, unveil their awful lore. 



Washington. 



Thus, after long years of strife, of repose, and of strife 
renewed, England and France, solemnly agreed to be at 
peace. The treaties of Aix la Chapelle, had been ne- 
gotiated, by the ablest statesmen of Europe, in the splen- 
did forms of monarchical diplomacy. They believed 
themselves, the arbiters of mankind ; the pacificators of 
the world; reconstructing the colonial system, on a basis, 
which should endure for ages ; confirming the peace of 
Europe, by the nice adjustment of material forces. At 



WASHINGTON. 243 

the very time of the Congress of Aix la Chapelle, the 
woods of Virginia, sheltered the youthful George Wash- 
ington; the son, of a widow. Born, by the side of the 
Potomac, beneath the roof of a Westmoreland farmer, 
almost from infancy, his lot had been, the lot of an or- 
phan. No academy, had welcomed him, to its shades, no 
college crowned him, with its honors : to read, to write, 
to cipher — these had been his degrees, in knowledge. 
And now, at sixteen years of age, in quest of an honest 
maintenance, encountering intolerable toil, cheered on- 
ward, by being able to write, to a schoolboy friend, 
" Dear Eichard, a doubloon, is my constant gain, every 
day; and, sometimes, six pistoles;" "himself, his own 
cook, having no spit, but a forked stick, no plate, but a 
large chip j" roaming over spurs of the Alleghanies, and 
along the banks of the Shenandoah; alive to nature, and, 
sometimes, " spending the best of the day in admiring 
the trees and richness of the land ;" among skin-clad 
savages, with their scalps and rattles, or uncouth emi- 
grants, "that would never speak English;" rarely sleep- 
ing in a bed ; holding a bearskin, a splendid couch ; glad 
of a resting-place, for the night, upon a little hay, straw, 
or fodder ; and often camping in the forests, where the 
place, nearest the fire, was a happy luxury ; — this strip- 
ling surveyor in the woods, with no companion, but his 
unlettered associates, and no implements of science, but 
his compass and chain, contrasted, strangely, with the 
imperial magnificence of the Congress of Aix la Chapelle. 
And yet, God had selected, not Kaunitz, nor Newcastle, 
not a monarch, of the house of Hapsburg, nor of Hano- 
ver, but, the Virginia stripling, to give an impulse to 
human affairs, and, as far as events can depend on an 
individual, had placed the rights, and the destinies, of 
countless millions, in the keeping of the widow's son. 



244 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



Jeanie Deans' Address to Queen Caroline. 

"If it like you, madam," said Jeanie, "I would hae 
gaen, to the end of the earth, to save the life of John 
Porteus, or any other unhappy man, in his condition. 
But, I might lawfully doubt, how far I am called upon, 
to be the avenger of his blood, though, it may become 
the civil magistrate, to do so. He is dead, and gane to 
his place; and, they, that have slain him, must answer 
for their ain act. But my sister, my puir sister Erne, 
still lives; though her days and hours, are numbered! 
She still lives ; and, a word of the King's mouth, might 
restore her, to a broken-hearted auld man, that never, in 
his daily and nightly exercise, forgot to pray, that his 
Majesty, might be blessed with a long and prosperous 
reign ; and, that his throne, and the throne of his pos- 
terity, might be established in righteousness. O, madam, 
if ever ye kend what it was to sorrow for, and with, a 
sinning and a suffering creature, whose mind, is sae 
tossed, that she can be neither ca'd fit to live, or die, 
have some compassion on our misery ! — Save an honest 
house from dishonor; and an unhappy girl, not eighteen 
years of age, from an early and dreadful death ! Alas ! 
it is not when we sleep, soft, and wake, merrily, our- 
selves, that we think on other people's sufferings. Our 
hearts, are waxed light within us, then, and, we are for 
righting our ain wrangs, and fighting our ain battles. 
But, when the hour of trouble, comes to the mind, or to 
the body — and seldom may it visit your Leddyship — and, 
when the hour of death comes, that comes to high and 
low — lang and late may it be yours! Oh, my Leddy, 
then, it isna what we hae dune for oursells, but, what we 
hae dune for others, that we think on maist pleasantly. 
And the thoughts, that ye hae intervened, to spare the 






JEANIE DEANS' ADDRESS TO QUEEN CAROLINE. 245 

puir thing's life, will be sweeter, in that hour, come when 
it may, than, if a word of your mouth, could hang the 
haill Porteus mob, at the tail of ae tow." 

Tear, followed tear, down Jeanie's cheeks, as, her 
features glowing and quivering with emotion, she pleaded 
her sister's cause, with a pathos, which was at once 
simple and solemn. 

"This is eloquence," said her Majesty, to the Duke of 
Argyle. "Young woman," she continued, addressing 
herself to Jeanie, " I cannot grant a pardon to your 
sister; but, you shall not want my warm intercession 
with his Majesty. Take this housewife case," she con- 
tinued, putting a small embroidered needle-case into 
Jeanie's hands; " do not open it now, but at your leisure; 
you will find something in it, which will remind you, 
that you have had an interview, with Queen Caroline." 

Jeanie, having her suspicions thus confirmed, dropped 
on her knees, and would have expanded herself, in grati- 
tude; but, the Duke, who was upon thorns, lest she 
should say more or less, than just enough, touched his 
chin once more. 

"Our business is, I think, ended for the present, my 
Lord Duke," said the Queen, "and, I trust, to your 
satisfaction. Hereafter I hope to see your Grace, more 
frequently, both at Eichmond and St. James's. — Come, 
Lady Suffolk, we must wish his Grace good-morning." 

They exchanged their parting reverences, and the 
Duke, so soon as the ladies had turned their backs, 
assisted Jeanie to rise from the ground, and conducted 
her back, through the avenue, which she trode, with the 
feeling of one who walks in her sleep. 

40* 



246 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



The Turf shall be my Fragrant Shrine. 

The turf, shall be my fragrant shrine ; 
My temple, Lord ! that arch of thine ; 
My censer's breath, the mountain airs; 
And, silent thoughts, my only prayers. 

My choir, shall be, the moonlight waves, 
When murmuring, homeward, to their caves ; 
Or, when the stillness of the sea, 
Even more than music, breathes of Thee ! 

I'll seek, by day, some glade unknown, 
All light and silence, like thy throne i 
And the pale stars, shall be, at night, 
The only eyes, that watch my rite. 

Thy heaven, on which 'tis bliss to look, 
Shall be my pure, and shining, book, 
Where I shall read, in words of flame, 
The glories of thy wondrous name. 

I'll read thy anger, in the rack 

That clouds, a while, the day-beam's track ; 

Thy mercy, in the azure hue, 

Of sunny brightness, breaking through ! 

There's nothing bright, above, below, 
From flowers, that bloom, to stars, that glow, 
But, in its light, my soul, can see 
Some features, of thy Deity. 

There's nothing dark, below, above, 
But, in its gloom, I trace thy love ; 
And, meekly wait that moment, when 
Thy touch, shall turn all bright, again ! 



RING OUT, WILD BELLS. 247 



King Out, Wild Bells. 

King out, wild bells, to the wild sky, 
The flying cloud, the frosty light : 
The year, is dying, in the night; 

King out, wild bells, find let him die. 

King out, the old, ring in, the new ; 
King, happy bells, across the snow : 
The year, is going ; let him go ; 

King out, the false, ring in, the true. 

King out, the grief, that saps the mind, 
For those, that, here, we see no more ; 
King out, the feud, of rich and poor; 

King, in redress, to all mankind. 

King out, a slowly dying cause, 
And ancient forms, of party strife; 
King in, the nobler modes of life, 

With sweeter manners, purer laws. 

King out, the want, the care, the sin, 
The faithless coldness, of the times ; 
King out, ring out, my mournful rhymes, 

But, ring the fuller minstrel, in. 

Eing out, false pride, in place and blood ; 

The civic slander, and the spite ; 

King in, the love of truth and right; 
King in, the common love of good. 

King out, old shapes of foul disease ; 

King out, the narrowing lust of gold; 

King out, the thousand wars of old ; 
King in, the thousand years of peace. 



248 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. * 

Eing in, the valiant man and free, 
The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; 
Eing out, the darkness of the land ; 

Eing in, the Christ that is to be. 



The Gray Forest Eagle. 

With storm-daring pinion, and sun-gazing eye, 
The gray forest eagle, reigns king, of the sky; 
And, little he loves the green valley of flowers, 
Though sunshine, and song, cheer the bright summer 

bowers ; 
He hears, in those haunts, only music, and sees 
But the rippling of waters, and waving of trees. 
There the red robin, warbles, and honey-bee, hums, 
The timid quail, whistles, and sly partridge, drums ; 
But, if those proud pinions, by chance, sweep along, 
There's shrouding of plumage, and hushing of song. 
The sunlight, falls, stilly, on leaf and on moss, 
And naught, but his black shadow, is gliding across ; 
In the dark gloomy gorge, where, down plunges, the 

foam, 
The fierce, rock-lashed, torrent, he claims, as his home ; 
There, blending his keen shriek, with the roar of the 

flood, 
And many-voiced sounds, of the blast-smitten wood, 
From the crag-grasping fir-top, where morn, hangs its 

wreath, 
He views the mad waters, while writhing beneath. 

On a limb of moss-bearded hemlock, far down, 
With bright, azure, mantle, and gay, mottled, crown, 



TIIE GRAY FOREST EAGLE. 249 

The kingfisher watches ; while, o'er him, his foe, 
The fierce hawk, sails, circling, each moment, more low. 
Now, poised are his pinions, and, pointed, his beak ; 
His death-swoop, is ready; when, hark! yonder shriek; 
With eyeballs, red blazing, high bristling, his crest, 
His snake-like neck, arched, talons, drawn to his breast, 
With the rush of the wind-gust, or glancing of light, 
The gray forest eagle, shoots down, in his might ; 
One grasp, of those talons, and plunge, of that neck, 
The strong hawk, hangs lifeless, a blood-dripping wreck; 
As, dives the free kingfisher, dart-like, on high, 
With his prey, soars the eagle, and melts, in the sky. 

A fitful, red, glaring, and low, rumbling, jar, 
Proclaim the storm-demon, yet raging afar : 
The black cloud, looms, upward ; the lightning's, more 

red; 
And the rolling thunder's, more deep, and more dread ; 
A thick pall of darkness, is cast o'er the air, 
And, on bounds, the blast, howling, from his deep lair; 
The zigzag lightning, darts, forked, through the gloom, 
And, o'erlaunches the bolt, with crash, rattle, and 

boom. 
The gray forest eagle ; oh ! where, has he fled ? 
Does he shrink, to his eyrie, shuddering with dread ? 
Does the glare, blind his eye? has the terrible blast, 
O'er the wing of the sky-king, a fear-fetter cast? 
Ah ! no ! no ! the brave eagle, thinks not of fright ; 
The wrath of the tempest, but rouses delight ; 
To the flash of the lightning, his eye, casts a gleam ; 
To the shriek of the wild blast, he echoes his scream. 
With front, like a warrior, speeding to the fray, 
With clapping of pinions, is up and away. 
Ay, away — away soars he, reckless and free ; 
Eeckless of the sky-strife, its monarch is he ; 



250 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

The lightning, darts round him, undaunted his sight; 
The blast, sweeps against him, unwavering, his flight ; 
Still, upward, high upward, he wheels, till his form, 
Is lost, in the black scowling gloom, of the storm. 

The tempest sweeps o'er, with its terrible train, 
And the splendor of sunshine, is glowing again ; 
Again, smiles, the soft azure blue, of the sky, 
The voices of glad birds, warble ; fanned leaves, sigh ; 
On the green grass, dance shadows ; streams, sparkling, 

run; 
On the breeze, float odors, its flower-kiss won; 
And, full on the form, of the demon, in flight, 
The rainbow's magnificence, gladdens the sight ; 
The gray forest eagle : oh, where is he now ? 
While the sky, wears the smile, of its God, on its brow ; 
There's a dark floating spot, by yon cloud's pearly 

wreath ; 
With the speed of an arrow, it's darting beneath; 
Down, nearer, and nearer, it draws, to the gaze ; 
Now, over the rainbow, now, blending, with its blaze ; 
To a shape, it expands, still plunging through air ; 
A proud crest, a fierce eye, a broad wing, is there ; 
'Tis the eagle, the gray forest eagle ; once more, 
To his eyrie, he sweeps; his journey, is o'er. 



On Prayer. 

Prayer, is the soul's sincere desire, 
Uttered, or unexpressed ; 

The motion of a hidden fire, 
That trembles, in the breast. 



ON PllAYEH. 251 

Prayer, is the burden, of a sigh, 

The falling, of a tear, 
The upward glancing, of an eye, 

When none, but God, is near. 

Prayer, is the simplest form of speech, 

That infant lips, can try; 
Prayer, the sublimest strains, that reach 

The majesty on high. 

Prayer, is the Christian's native breath; 

The Christian's native air; 
His watchword, at the gates of death ; 

He enters heaven, with prayer. 

Prayer is, the contrite sinner's voice, 

Ee turning, from his ways; 
While angels, in their songs, rejoice, 

And cry, "Behold, he prays !" 

In prayer, on earth, the saints are one, 

In word, in deed, in mind, 
When, with the Father, and the Son, 

Sweet fellowship, they find. 

Nor prayer, is made, on earth, alone ; 

The Holy Spirit, pleads ; 
And Jesus, on the eternal throne, 

For sinners, intercedes. 

Oh ! Thou, by whom, we come to God, 

The Life, the Truth, the Way, 
The path of prayer, thyself, hast trod ; 

Lord ! teach us, how, to pray. 



252 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



"What is Time? 

I asked an aged man, a man of cares, 
Wrinkled, and curved, and white, with hoary hairs : 
"Time, is the warp of life," he said; "Oh, tell 
The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it well!" 
I asked the ancient, venerable, dead ; 
Sages, who wrote, and warriors, who bled : 
From the cold grave, a hollow murmur, flowed, 
"Time, sowed the seed, we reap, in this abode !" 

I asked a dying sinner, ere the tide 
Of life, had left his veins : "Time !" he replied ; 
" I've lost it ! Ah, the treasure I" and, he died. 
I asked the golden sun, and silver spheres, 
Those bright chronometers of days and years : 
They answered, "Time is but a meteor glare !" 
And bade me, for eternity, prepare. 

I asked the seasons, in their annual round, 

Which beautify, or desolate, the ground ; 

And they replied, (no oracle more wise,) 

"'Tis folly's blank, and wisdom's highest prize !" 

I asked a spirit, lost : but oh, the shriek, 

That pierced my soul ! I shudder, while I speak ! 

It cried, "A particle ! a speck ! a mite. 

Of endless years ; duration, infinite !" 

Of things inanimate, my dial, I 
Consulted ; and it, made me, this reply ; 
"Time, is the season fair, of living well; 
The path of glory; or, the path of hell." 
I asked my Bible; and, methinks, it said, 
"Time is the present hour, — the past, is fled ; 



WAR AND PEACE. 253 

Live ! live to-day ! to-morrow, never, yet, 
On any human being, rose or set." 

I asked old Father Time, himself, at last; 

But, in a moment, he flew swiftly past; 

His chariot, was a cloud j the viewless wind, 

His noiseless steeds; which, left no trace behind. 

I asked the mighty angel, who shall stand, 

One foot, on sea, and, one, on solid land : 

"By heavens," he cried, "I swear, the mystery's o'er: 

Time was" he cried, "but, Time shall be, no more I" 



War and Peace. 



Who has ever told the evils, and the curses, and the 
crimes, of war? Who can describe the horrors of the 
carnage of battle ? Who can portray the fiendish pas- 
sions, which reign there ? Who can tell the amount, of 
the treasures wasted, and, of the blood, that has flowed, 
and of the tears, that have been shed, over the slain? 
Who can register the crimes, which war, has originated 
and sustained ? If there is any thing, in which, earth, 
more, than in any other, resembles hell, it is in its wars. 
And who, with the heart of a man, of a lover of human 
happiness, of a hater of carnage and crime, can look, 
but with pity ; who can repress his contempt, in looking 
on all the trappings of war; the tinsel, the nodding 
plumes, even the animating music, designed to cover 
over the reality, of the contemplated murder of fathers, 
and husbands, and sons ? 

We, are called into being, as a nation, for higher and 
nobler ends; and, it is our vocation, and, especially, the 

41 



254 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

vocation of the people of this Commonwealth of Penn, 
to show, to the world, the blessings of the principles of 
peace. When the world's history, shall all be written, 
let not the first pages of our own story, be blackened, 
like those of Assyria, and of Eome. Let there be so 
much light, and so much true glory evolved, from the 
arts of peace, that the few dark spots which war has 
already made (for war always does it) may be covered 
over, with the living splendor, that shall have accumu- 
lated, in a long career of true glory. 

In illustration of these sentiments, and to show the 
power and efficacy, of the principles of peace, I do not 
know, that the world, has furnished a better instance, 
than occurred in a well-known event, in the life of the 
founder of this Commonwealth. Penn, met a race of 
men here, the inhabitants of the forest, who had been 
regarded as bloody, and cruel, and unfaithful; and, 
always disposed to war. With portions of that race, 
there had been, long and fierce conflicts; and, every 
colony, had been made to feel the cruelties of the toma- 
hawk and scalping-knife. Penn was, on principle, op- 
posed to war ; and, meant to live, with all mankind, on 
terms of peace. He came, unarmed; with neither battle- 
axe, nor buckler, nor sword, nor shield, nor cannon. 
"We meet," said he to them, "on the broad pathway 
of good faith, and good will; no advantage, shall be 
taken on either side ; but, all shall be openness and love. 
I will not call you children, for parents, sometimes, 
chide their children too severely; nor brothers, for 
brothers, differ. The friendship between me and you, 
I will not compare to a chain ; for that, the rains might 
rust, or the falling tree break. We are the same; as 
if one man's body were divided into two parts; we are 
all one flesh and blood." 

" The children of the forest were touched by the sacred 






WAR AND PEACE. 255 

doctrine," says the historian, "and renounced their guile 
and their revenge. 'We will live/ said they, 'in love 
with William Penn, and his children, as long as the 
moon, and the sun, shall endure/ " 

The treaty of peace and friendship, made between him 
and them, under the old elm, on the banks of the Dela- 
ware, was one of the most remarkable transactions in 
history; one of the finest conceivable triumphs, of the 
spirit of peace; one of the most signal rebukes, of the 
spirit of war, and of the necessity, for war. "It was 
not confirmed by an oath ; it was not ratified by signa- 
tures and seals; no written record, of the conference, 
can be found; and, its terms and conditions, had no 
abiding monument, but on the heart. There they were 
written, like the law of God ; and, there they were never 
forgotten. The simple sons of the wilderness, returning 
to their wigwams, kept the history of the covenant, by 
strings of wampum; and, long afterward, in their 
cabins, would count over the shells, on a clean piece of 
bark, and recall to their own memory, and repeat to 
their children, or the stranger, the words of William 
Penn. He had come without arms; he declared his 
purpose, to abstain from violence ; he had no message, 
but peace ; and, not a drop of Quaker blood, was over 
shed by an Indian." Who can tell, how much, the same 
spirit, would have done, to disarm all hostile tribes; 
and who can fail to see, here, a sublimer victory, than 
was ever achieved on a field of blood ; and, brighter and 
more enduring laurels, than were ever gained, in the 
carnage of battle ? 



256 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 



Endeavors of Mankind to get Kid of 
their Burdens. 

(a bream.) 

It is a celebrated thought of Socrates, that, if all the 
misfortunes of mankind, were cast into a public stock, 
in order to be equally distributed, among the whole 
species, those, who now think themselves, the most un- 
happy, would prefer the share they are already possessed 
of, before that which would fall to them, by such a divi- 
sion. Horace, has carried this thought a great deal 
further: he says, that the hardships, or misfortunes 
which we lie under, are more easy to us, than those of 
any other person, would be, in case we could change 
conditions with him. 

As I was ruminating on these two remarks, and seated 
in my elbow-chair, I insensibly fell asleep; when, on a 
sudden, I thought, there was a proclamation made, by 
Jupiter, that every mortal, should bring in his griefs 
and calamities, and throw them together, in a heap. 
There was a large plain, appointed for this purpose. I 
took my stand, in the centre of it, and saw, with a great 
deal of pleasure, the whole human species marching, one 
after another, and throwing down their several loads, 
which, immediately, grew up into a prodigious moun- 
tain, that seemed to rise above the clouds. 

There was a certain lady, of a thin airy shape, who 
was very active, in this solemnity. She carried a niagni- 
fying-glass, in one of her hands, and, was clothed, in a 
loose flowing robe, embroidered with several figures, of 
fiends, and spectres, that discovered themselves, in a 
thousand chimerical shapes, as her garment hovered, in 
the wind. There was something wild and distracted, in 
her looks. Her name was Fancy. She led up every 



GETTING RID OP BURDENS. 257 

mortal, to the appointed place, after having, very offi- 
ciously, assisted him in making up his pack, and laying 
it upon his shoulders. My heart melted within me, to 
see my fellow-creatures, groaning under their respective 
burdens, and to consider that prodigious bulk, of human 
calamities, which lay before me. 

There were, however, several persons, who gave me 
great diversion, upon this occasion. I observed one, 
bringing in a fardel, very carefully concealed, under an 
old embroidered cloak ; which, upon his throwing it into 
the heap, I discovered, to be Poverty. Another, after a 
great deal of puffing, threw down his luggage ; which, 
upon examining, I found, to be his wife. 

There were numbers of lovers, saddled with very 
whimsical burdens, composed of darts, and flames; but, 
what was very odd, though they sighed as if their hearts 
would break, under these bundles of calamities, they 
could not persuade themselves, to cast them into the 
heap, when they came up to it : but, after a few faint 
efforts, shook their heads, and inarched away, as heavy 
laden, as they came. I saw multitudes of old women, 
throw down their wrinkles; and, several young ones, 
who stripped themselves, of a tawny skin. There were 
very great heaps of red noses, large lips, and rusty 
teeth. The truth of it is, I was surprised to see the 
greater part of the mountain, made up of bodily de- 
formities. Observing one, advancing toward the heap, 
with a larger cargo, than ordinary, upon his back, I 
found, upon his near approach, that it was only a 
natural hump, which he disposed of, with great joy of 
heart, among this collection of human miseries. There 
were likewise distempers, of all sorts ; though, I could 
not but observe, that there were many, more imaginary, 
than real. One little packet, I could not but take notice 
of, which was a complication of all the diseases, incident 

41* 



• 



258 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

to human nature ; and, was in the hands of a great many 
fine people : this was called the Spleen. But, what most 
of all, surprised me, was a remark, I made, that there 
was not a single vice, or folly, thrown into the whole 
heap; at which, I was very much astonished; having 
concluded, within myself, that every one, would take 
this opportunity, of getting rid, of his passions, preju- 
dices, and frailties. 

I took notice, in particular, of a very profligate fellow, 
who, I did not question, came loaded with his crimes ; 
but, upon searching into his bundle, I found that, instead 
of throwing his guilt from him, he had only, laid down 
his memory. He was followed, by another worthless 
rogue, who flung away his modesty, instead of his 
ignorance. 

When the whole race of mankind, had thus cast their 
burdens, the phantom, which had been so busy, on this 
occasion, seeing me, an idle spectator, of what had 
passed, approached toward me. I grew uneasy, at her 
presence ; when, of a sudden, she held her magnifying- 
glass, full before my eyes. I no sooner saw my face in 
it, than I was startled, at the shortness of it; which, 
now, appeared to me, in its utmost aggravation. The 
immoderate breadth, of the features, made me, very 
much out of humor, with my own countenance ; upon 
which, I threw it from me, like a mask. It happened 
very luckily, that one, who stood by me, had, just be- 
fore, thrown down his visage ; which, it seems, was too 
long for him. It was, indeed, extended to a shameful 
length : I believe the very chin, was, modestly speak- 
ing, as long as my whole face. We had, both of us, an 
opportunity of mending ourselves ; and, all the contri- 
butions being how brought in, every man was at liberty, 
to exchange his misfortunes, for those of another person. 
But, as there arose many new incidents, in the sequel 



GETTING RID OP BURDENS. 259 

of my vision, I shall reserve them, for the subject of my 
next paper. 

In my last paper, I gave my reader a sight of that 
mountain of miseries, which was made up, of those seve- 
ral calamities that afflict the minds of men. I saw, with 
unspeakable pleasure, the whole species, thus delivered 
from its sorrows ; though, at the same time, as wo stood 
round the heap, and surveyed the several materials, of 
which it was composed, there was scarcely a mortal, in 
this vast multitude, who did not discover what, he 
thought, pleasures of life; and wondered how the owners 
of them, ever came to look upon them, as burdens and 
grievances. 

As we were regarding, very attentively, this confusion 
of miseries, this chaos of calamity, Jupiter, issued out a 
second proclamation, that every one, was now at liberty, 
to exchange his affliction, and to return to his habita- 
tion, with any such other bundle, as should be delivered 
to him. 

Upon this, Fancy began, again, to bestir herself; and, 
parcelling out the whole heap, with incredible activity, 
recommended to every one, his particular packet. The 
hurry and confusion, at this time, were not to be ex- 
pressed. Some observations, which I made, upon this 
occasion, I shall communicate to the public. A venerable, 
gray-headed man, who had laid down the colic, and who, 
I found, wanted an heir to his estate, snatched up an 
undutifnl son, that had been thrown into the heap, by 
an angry father. The graceless youth, in less than a 
quarter of an hour, pulled the old gentleman by the 
beard ; and, had like to have knocked his brains out ; 
so that, meeting the true father, who came toward him, 
with a fit of the gripes, he begged him, to take his son, 
again, and give him, back, his colic; but, they were 



260 EXERCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

incapable, either of them, to recede, from the choice 
they had made. A poor galley-slave, who had thrown 
down his chains, took up the gout in their stead; but, 
made such wry faces, that one might easily perceive, 
he was no great gainer, by the bargain. It was plea- 
sant enough, to see the several exchanges, that were 
made, of sickness, against poverty, hunger, against 
want of appetite, and care, agaiost pain. 

The female world, were very busy, among themselves, 
in bartering for features : one, was trucking a lock of 
gray hairs, for a carbuncle; and another, was making 
over a short waist, for a pair of round shoulders; and a 
third, cheapening a bad face, for a lost reputation : bat, 
on all these occasions, there was not one of them, who 
did not think the new blemish, as soon as she had got 
it into her possession, much more disagreeable than 
the old one. I made the same observation, on every 
other misfortune or calamity, which every one in the 
assembly, brought upon himself, in lieu, of what he 
had parted with; whether it be, that all the evils 
which befall us, are, in some measure, suited and pro- 
pbrtioned, to our strength, or, that every evil, becomes 
more supportable, by our being accustomed to it, I shall 
not determine. 

I must not, omit my own particular adventure. My 
friend, with the long visage, had no sooner, taken upon 
him, my short face, than he made so grotesque a figure, 
that, as I looked upon him, I could not forbear, laugh- 
ing at myself, insomuch, that I put my own face, out 
of countenance. The poor gentleman, was so sensible 
of the ridicule, that I found, he was ashamed, of what 
he had done : on the other side, I found, that I, myself, 
had no great reason to triumph ; for, as I went to touch 
my forehead, I missed the place, and, clapped my finger, 
upon my upper lip. Besides, as my nose, was exceed- 



GETTING RID OF BURDENS. 201 

ingly prominent, I gave it, two or three unlucky knocks, 
as I was playing my hand about my face, and aiming, 
at some other part of it. I saw two other gentlemen, 
by me, who were in the same ridiculous circumstances. 
These, had made a foolish exchange, between a couplo 
of thick, bandy, legs, and two long trap-sticks, that had 
no calves to them. One of these, looked like a man, 
walking upon stilts; and, was so lifted up into the air, 
above his ordinary height, that his head, turned round 
with it; while the other, made so awkward circles, as 
he attempted to walk, that he scarcely knew, how to 
move forward, upon his new supporters. Observing 
him to be a pleasant kind of fellow, I stuck my cane, in 
the ground, and told him, I would lay him a bottle of 
wine, that he did not march up to it, on a line that I 
drew for him, in a quarter of an hour. 

The heap was, at last, distributed, among the two 
sexes, who made a most piteous sight, as they wan- 
dered, up and down, under the pressure, of their several 
burdens. The whole plain, was filled with murmurs 
and complaints; groans and lamentations. Jupiter, at 
length, taking compassion on the poor mortals, ordered 
them, a second time, to lay down their loads, with a 
design, to give every one his own again. They dis- 
charged themselves, with a great deal of pleasure ; after 
which, the phantom, who had led them, into such gross 
delusions, was commanded to disappear. There was 
sent, in her stead, a goddess, of a quite different figure : 
her motions, were steady and composed; and her 
aspect, serious but cheerful. She, every now and then, 
cast her eyes toward heaven, and fixed them upon 
Jupiter : her name, was Patience. She had no sooner 
placed herself by the mount of Sorrows, than, what I 
thought very remarkable, the whole heap sunk, to such 
a degree, that it did not appear, a third part so big, as 



262 EXEKCISES IN ELOCUTION. 

it was before. She, afterward, returned, every man, his 
own proper calamity ; and, teaching him how to bear it, 
in the most commodious manner, he marched off with 
it, contentedly; being very well pleased, that he had 
not been left, to his own choice, as to the kind of evils, 
which fell to his lot. 



THE END. 



STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON & CO. 
PHILADELPHIA. 



NOTICES. 



I have read, with much interest, most of the chapters of the Com- 
pendium of Elocution, by Samuel R. Gummere ; the first part, contain- 
ing the Principles of Elocution, and tho second part, Exercises in 
Elocution. The Principles, which are at the foundation of this great 
art, are analyzed, and thoroughly expounded, in this admirable 
treatise. Mr. Gummere begins at the beginning, and discusses Sound, 
the Mechanism of the Human Voice, the Elementary Sounds of our 
language, Force of the Voice, Time and Quantity, Pitch, Articulation, 
Melody of Speech, Quality of Voice, Intonation, Pauses, Emphasis, 
Grouping of Speech, and the Vocal Signs of Emotions; concluding 
with General Observations on Reading and Speaking. The whole 
subject of Elocution is discussed with tho exactness of science ; and, 
its mysteries explained and made familiar Mr. Gummere adopts, in 
the main, the principles of Dr. Rush's incomp^^ble " Philosophy of 
the Human Voice," and adapts them, to popular comprehension, and 
to practical application. In the selection of Exercises, Mr. Gummere 
has shown unusual taste and tact. This part of his book has a com- 
prehensive variety of topics, suited to the training of the voice, in all 
the exigencies of elementary sounds, force, time, pitch, emotion, &c. 

In short, I have not seen any work on Elocution that equals this 
one in the scientific analysis and thorough, skilful, exposition of the 
subject. What confirms me in this high opinion, is my knowledge of 
Mr. Gummere as a successful instructor of several members of my own 
family, and in more public positions. I take pecuhar pleasure, in 
commending this book to all, with whom my opinion has the slightest 
weight, being fully satisfied that those who examine it, will derive 
from it much instruction and gratification, and that those who dili- 
gently study and practise its suggestions, will become proficients in a 
great art. 

C. Van Rensselaer, 
Cor. Sec. Board of Education of Presbyierian Church. 

Burlington, N. J., December 19, 1857. 



Having been, for many years, engaged in teaching, I have long felt 
the want of a class-book, well adapted^ to giving instruction on the 
human voice, and the right application of its powers and modifica 
tions, in reading and speaking. I have examined various publications 
intended for this purpose, and have used a number of them, but in 
none have I found what I wanted. Recently I have had the pleasure 
of examining the proof-sheets of a work on Elocution, by Samuel R. 
Gummere, which appears to me far better, for giving clear and defi- 
nite instruction in the art, than any other within my knowledge. In 
it, the application of the principles embodied in Dr. Rush's ^'Philo- 



11 NOTICES. 

sophy of the Human Voice," is concisely and clearly shown ; and it 
embraces a copious selection of reading exercises, well calculated to 
familiarize the pupil, by means of an intelligible course of training, 
with his own vocal powers, as well in their finer, as in their more 
forcible, modifications. The student will find in this treatise, a clear 
explanation of the modes by which particular expression is given to 
what he utters. He is not merely told that he should " read or speak 
naturally" or "in a manner suitable to the subject," but he is in- 
formed how to attain so desirable an object, by being made acquainted 
with the means — the special instruments that must be used to produce 
special effects. To those who would acquire a thorough knowledge of 
the movements of the voice in speech, and especially to those, engaged 
in giving instruction in reading and speaking, I heartily recommend 
the work, as a lucid exposition of the subject. 

12 mo. 19, 1857. Dubre* Knight. 



Having heard read most of the manuscript, entitled "Principles of 
Elocution, by Samuel It. Gummere," and having read carefully to my 
school some sixty pages of the proof-sheets, I am free to say, that it 
contains instruction, far more interesting and more solid than any 
other school-book that I have seen. It seems to be honestly designed 
for use, rather than show ; for the vindication of nature and reason, 
in human speech. The author has long and deeply studied his sub- 
ject; and, in my opinion, understands it well. His book contains a 
condensed and lucid statement of his knowledge, in a didactic form, 
in a method so orderly, and in propositions so clear, that the intel- 
ligent reader will surely understand it, and the interested inquirer 
receive sound instruction. 

His selections, for the most part, are gems from our purest English 
classics. Many are serious, many sublime, but none immoral. Some 
are humorous enough to extort a smile from gravity itself ; but no 
coarseness is permitted, to wound the refined and virtuous. The 
melody and intonation, adapted to each selection, are clearly and 
briefly given ; a point of instruction, as important as it is rare ; and 
indeed not possible, in books without principles. 

The punctuation is peculiar, and may startle, and, possibly, preju- 
dice the hasty examiner ; but the conscientious and practised teacher 
will soon perceive its excellent tendency, to cure that detestable 
jumble and jargon of utterance, so common with pupils, and so diffi- 
cult to eradicate. a 

I regret my want of time for a more thorough examination of the 
work ; but I am persuaded that this hasty sketch is true. I intend 
to adopt the book in my school. 

Samuel Aaron, 

December 21, 1857. Norristown, Pa. 



Price One Dollar, Postage paid. 



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